Under siege
by happycat12
Summary: Far away a Princess's life hangs in the balance. Who will save her and will they get to her before its too late?
1. Chapter 1

It's been seven weeks, 2 days and five hours since her older brother returned to claim his rightful throne with no memory of how he'd almost died.

It's been six weeks, 1 day and 17 hours since her uncle took an overdose of sleeping tablets, leaving a note behind saying that with no throne he had no further purpose in life.

It's been nine weeks, 6 days and eleven hours since HE packed his bags, cleared his room and left without a word.

It's been one week, four days and twenty two hours since she let Beck back into her life again.

It's been 2 days and 3 hours since she and her twin set foot on the other side of the world for their third visit to Australia.

* * *

She wasn't supposed to go to Australia originally, but Robbie and Liam persuade her. At first when Robbie came back from the dead she was on a high for a good two weeks, even without the drugs she'd sworn off for good so recently. That too, earned her brownie points with both her brothers.

Beck was back and around a lot with Robbie, and things kind of started back up between them, now that she's a new and improved version of herself, or so everyone seems to think. Except that it doesn't really feel like she is. It still sort of feels like even though her brother's back there's still a part of her that's missing.

Out of all the things that have happened to her over the past ten weeks, the thing that stays with her the most is that she still can't shake the hold he still has on her, wherever he is, whatever he's doing.

In Australia she and Liam have been subjected to the usual tours, but with a local flavour – visiting a school, patting a koala at a zoo, hosting a state dinner.

On their second night, they're supposed to attend the opera.

"Bor-ring," Eleanor rolls her eyes as she peers at the evening's performance programme. The thought of having to listen to ancient ugly fat ladies pretending to be attractive eighteen year olds while flirting in Italian is really not her thing.

"If you make me attend this I promise you I'm going to need to trip off to the bathroom half way through to powder my nose, if you get my drift," she announces to her brother, giving him a threatening look.

She's been smiling and shaking hands all day. Now that Robbie's on the throne she's making more of an effort to behave because she wants him to succeed. But eight hours of being nice and a proper Princess is really all she can manage without going stir crazy.

Liam shrugs, "fine then, do what you like, but just remember that you'll have to up at 8 for our walkabout at 9."

Eleanor nods and smiles. "And you remember that even though it's at Bondi there's no crowd surfing. Royal protection will have a fit."

Liam smiles and leans over to stretch out his sleeves towards her, "got it sis," he says handing her his cufflinks.

Eleanor takes the cufflinks and attaches them for him, then inspects him. "You know I'm almost tempted to say you're looking a little too sharp to die of boredom at the opera."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Liam replies, grinning. "Have a good night yourself."

* * *

The club they've turned up at Sydney is much the same as the type she likes to frequent in London or Paris, only its hotter and slightly more casual.

With her she has her lady in waiting the Honourable Emily Wilson, who isn't actually as stuffy as her title may suggest, and Mr Hill. Three members of the Australian Police loiter in plain clothes scattered around the dance floor.

By 11pm she's downed five drinks and she's getting tired of people asking to take selfies with her, so they've moved to the private VIP area.

She's flicking ash from her cigarette onto a tray when the first shot is fired and all hell breaks loose. Three more shots ring out in quick succession. "He's dead, they're both dead," a girl screams from near the door.

On the dance floor people push and jostle each other, and there is more screaming and more shots. Suddenly the crowd parts like the red sea. From where she's sitting Eleanor can see three men at opposite sides of the room holding guns.

They are all dark skinned, with beards and one of them fires his gun twice more into the air.

"Get on the floor," he yells, pointing his weapon threateningly at the crowd. People scream and fall to the floor, clutching at one another.

In their corner, Emily grabs Eleanor and drags her down onto the floor as the two people beside them follow suit. From between her hands Eleanor can see now that there are actually five gunmen altogether as two more men make their way towards the centre of the room.

They stand there silently scanning the room.

They speak to another in a language she doesn't understand but she keeps her head down and doesn't look up. She knows damn well that nothing good can come of being recognised in this situation.

There is another shot, this time close to her, and out of the corner of her eye she can see blood start to pool on the floor. She risks a quick glance to her left and feels the breath knocked out of her when she realises that the target was Mr Hill, her friend and bodyguard who's clutching his chest.

She's shifts slightly to get a better look at him and under cover of the person in front of her, her hand starts searching for her purse where her mobile is hidden.

Footsteps start coming closer to her and finally a pair of heavy boots stops in front of her face and kick her arms. She peers between her hands and looks at the ground.

A finger is pointing down at her body and she curls into herself, trying to make her body into a tight ball huddled against the ground.

Suddenly a pair of strong arms seize her and she is being dragged from the floor to her feet as her heart starts to hammer so loud it drowns out any other sound.

She thinks tonight is the night she's going to die.

* * *

In Las Vegas, he's been spending a lot of time at the gym.

He's been spending longer on the rowing machine, pumping heavier weights and pushing himself harder than ever.

He's not sure what this is all in aid of, but it helps him to stop thinking and that's got to be good because when he starts thinking sooner or later his thoughts inevitably come back to her.

So when the breaking news band flashes across the TV screen saying there's a terrorist siege in a Sydney nightclub he can't help but feel his chest tighten when he remembers that she's in Australia right now, very probably in Sydney.

And although he tells himself that the chances of her being right there in that club are pretty slim, it only takes him two seconds to drop his weights and reach for his phone to call Liam to reassure himself that she is safe. Because all he ever wanted was for his princess to be safe (or at least he tells himself that's all he ever wanted for her, from her.)


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for the reviews for chapter 1, I really appreciate your comments. Next chapter follows..._

In his hotel room Liam is confused. And worried.

It's been 30 minutes since Australian Police stormed into the opera performance, hauled him from his seat and shut down the night's entertainment. He's been hustled into a car and driven at high speed to his hotel where he's been locked into his room, with more security on the door than ever before.

Outside he can hear the wail of sirens, and the streets have emptied of their Saturday night crowds. Something serious is very clearly up.

He's still doesn't know where exactly Eleanor went for the evening. He's tried ringing her three times but she's not answering – although there's nothing particularly unusual about that for her on a night out.

He switches on his TV and tunes it to the news to find the city is on the highest terror alert and the central city has been locked down by police. The news anchors speculate about what the threat is. The police are due to give a Press Conference in an hour.

A sharp rap at the door interrupts his thoughts. "Enter," he instructs and the door opens to reveal an Australian Police officer.

"Your Highness. I'm Assistant Commissioner Bryce Williams of the New South Wales Police. I need to brief you on an important issue."

Liam nods. "Yes, I'd appreciate some information on all of this," he replies gesturing towards the TV screen. "And any news you have on my sister's whereabouts."

The Police man's face looks serious. He nods. "May I come in?"

"Of course," Liam replies.

The police man takes off his hat, walks inside and stops in the centre of the room.

"Sit down. Please," Liam requests.

People always insist on standing in front of him until he asks them not to, and too much deferential loitering tends to make him uncomfortable.

The policeman sits at the table in the corner of the room and steeps his hands together.

"Your highness we had to remove you promptly tonight because a significant terrorist action has affected the city. Several men stormed an inner city nightclub a little over an hour ago. We've not yet made contact with them so as yet we don't know what they want or why."

"If you haven't even spoken to them how do you even know what happened?," Liam questions, his eyebrows knotting together.

"We have intelligence from several sources, texts, twitter posts, a 911 call all in the space of a minute before communications were shut down, presumably by the terrorists," the Policeman replies.

Abruptly he gets to his feet, walking a few paces across the room, and then turning.

Liam has the feeling he's steeling himself to tell him something he won't like.

"Your highness, I'm afraid its extremely likely that the Princess Eleanor is among those being held hostage in the nightclub."

He pulls himself upright, his face grave as the shock registers on Liam's face.

"We traced her location through her mobile and several of the patrons posted photos on Facebook or twitter with the Princess at the same nightclub where the attack occurred shortly before it began."

Liam runs his hand through his hair. "What are you going to do to get her out. And everyone else?" he questions, sounding distraught.

His thoughts are focused on his sister, but there must be a hundred other families out there with brothers, sisters, sons and daughters in the club, terrified for their lives.

"The situation is …complex," the Police Officer replies, frowning. Everyone always assumes that as soon as a hostage situation unfolds, special forces should be sent in there guns blazing.

"The first step is to gather as much intelligence as possible about the location, the terrorists and their motives. Once we know that we can identify the best course of action and formulate a plan. If we act too quickly without proper preparation we are putting the lives of everyone in that club at risk."

"What do you know about the terrorists?," Liam questions. "Is it Al Queda?"

"We don't know for sure, but very likely them or a Muslim group with similar objectives, based on the appearance of the terrorists."

"Is Eleanor the target? Are they trying to make some kind of example of her," Liam asks urgently.

He has a sudden vision of a man holding a gun to his sisters head. He pulls the trigger and the sound of a shot richochets in his head.

The gravity of the situation hits him, and he tries to blink away the tears that are starting to form in his eyes.

"We don't know what their objectives are for sure yet. But its possible the Princess is the focus of their operation."

Liam slams his fist down on the table, then stands and turns away to look at the window to hide his face as a tear slides his cheek. If this is all about Al Queda making a statement to the west, killing a Princess sends a pretty clear message about who's in control.

"Until we have further information unfortunately there's not much more I can tell you," the Police Officer finishes. "Please be assured I'll keep you informed through regular updates when we have more news."

Liam nods, still facing the window. "Thank you."

The man exits the room, and even though its nearly 30 degrees, Liam feels as though a sudden chill has settled in the air.

* * *

It's 6.30am when Jasper calls but 1.30am in Sydney.

Liam should be sleeping but he just can't when he knows that his sister is under siege, in terror.

"Liam. I saw the news. Tell me you're both ok?" Jasper says urgently into the phone.

There is a long pause at the other end of the line and Jasper starts to wonder if Liam's been disconnected.

"I'm fine," Liam says eventually. "But Eleanor's in the club where the attack is."

At the other end of the line Jasper's face drains of colour and he has to lean against the wall in the weights room for support.

"Is she still alive?," he asks, his voice sounding choked.

"Yes, as far as we know," Liam hurries to reassure him. He knows a lot of stuff has passed between Jasper and Eleanor but he's never been in doubt about the fact that, whatever his sins, Jasper's hook, line and sinker in love with his sister.

"What's the plan to get her out?" Jasper questions, ignoring the fact that there's maybe a hundred other people in the club.

"They don't know," Liam replies. He's still in lock down so he watched the Police Press Conference from his hotel room, but that didn't shed any further light on the siege other than the confirming the same known knowns and the many known unknowns the Police Officer already told him.

"I think it will take a while before they do anything," Liam finishes.

"Fucking hell," Jasper exclaims. "Do they even know what they're doing over there?," he demands.

"I'm really not sure," Liam replies. He sounds young, and worried.

Jasper exhales. "That's it, I'm coming over. I'm coming over right now," he announces angrily.

"Ok," Liam replies. He's not a bit surprised by this decision and he feels a sense of relief washing over him. At least he'll have someone he trusts by his side now and maybe together they can help get his sister out.


	3. Chapter 3

It's been nearly two hours since the terrorists took them hostage and it already feels like the longest night of Eleanor's life, and she's had more than her fair share of late nights.

All of the phones and electronic devices were confiscated by the terrorists within a few minutes of their takeover. Everyone has been told to stay on the floor, to sit still and not to talk.

It's clear that they know who she is, because she has been the only person moved from their original position. One of the men dragged her from the VIP corner to the middle of the room, where she sits with two gunmen nearby, while the other three stand in different corners, glaring intimidatingly at anyone who dares to even cough.

None of the rest of them know anything about what this is about, or what the terrorists want. The only time they are spoken to is when they are issued with orders about what they can and can't do.

All this time, Eleanor's been forced to watch as one of her few, perhaps only, friends bleeds out in front of her very eyes. He was hit in the chest and he has been slumped forward clutching his chest, his face a pallid grey. He's not dead, or at least not yet, but watching him suffer is pure agony.

Eventually she can't stand it any longer and she rises to her feet and starts to pick her way through the tightly packed bodies towards him. From near her bodyguard, her lady in waiting shoots her a warning look, which she disregards.

"Get on the floor," "Stop," two of the gunmen yell at her, and her actions cause the other patrons to start screaming as guns are pointed in her direction.

It took her less than a minute after the siege started to work out that this is probably all about her. That she is the target, and sooner or later she'll end up dead.

Nothing she does here actually matters at all to the eventual outcome, so she decides to ignore them and continues to wind her way towards Mr Hill.

She sits down beside him, and pulls him into her arms, ignoring the yelling from the terrorists ordering her to go back to where she was. "Princess don't put yourself in danger for me," he gasps, between breaths. "I'm fine. Compared to being tortured by Saddam this is a breeze."

She smiles, and a tear forms at the memory of happier times between them. "Mr Hill you do amuse me," she says softly, her fingers finding his hand to squeeze it.

Strong hands grasp her arm just then and haul her to her feet. She clings on to Mr Hill's hand for as long as she can and then they are finally wrenched apart as she is dragged back to the centre of the room and dumped unceremoniously back onto the floor.

"You will learn to behave yourself Princess, or you will find yourself with a bullet in your head," one of the gunman says, legs planted astride in front of her, looking down on her intimidatingly.

He places a gun against her forehead and presses the trigger half way.

Eleanor's breath catches in her throat and she shuts her eyes tight. A few seconds later he removes the gun and smirks down at her, seeing the relief wash over her as she opens her eyes once more.

She thought that she was ready to die. She is a Princess and she thought she could be strong and brave when the time came. But she is afraid, she is so afraid, and what she wants most of all is to see HIS face, and feel his arms around her one more time before the end comes.


	4. Chapter 4

_Right so I will be continuing this fic as most reviewers wanted to keep reading this story. Thank you for your comments._

Chris: I have actually already written two stories set in historical time periods covering some of the other examples of terrorism you mentioned which you wondered why I didn't choose to write about. You can read them by clicking on my username. One story is set on Cyprus in WW2 under German occupation and covers the deportation of the Jews from the Island. The other story is set in India during the Raj and covers conflict between the English and the Indians.

The other longer story I wrote is set in England following a natural catastrophe in a politically destabilised state where an English military general stages a coup and seizes control of the country and runs amok - another example of terrorism but set in the future not the past.

I actually have a first class honours degree in history and I have certainly studied and written essays on a number of the incidents you mentioned so I'm quite aware of these. I did a term paper on the origins of WW1, studied WW2, ancient history in India, revolutionary world history and nuclear cold war history. I'm interested in both world history and current events/ modern politics and I try to weave in different aspects of these into my stories to make them realistic.

In the 12 other stories I have written on here my cast of villains has included - a middle aged British woman, two Russian mafia mobster kidnappers, Nazi Officers, a British Military general who stages a military coup, King Cyrus, an unnamed European assassin and a couple of English henchmen (none of which are Muslim). And no I don't especially hate the English its just that most of my stories have been set in England.

 _ **Sydney 8.45pm, 21 hours since siege commenced**_

It's been 25 minutes since he landed at Sydney and he's just cleared customs. His fellow passengers stared daggers at him for pushing to the front of the queue but he doesn't give a damn. He knew the copy of his Royal Security ID would come in handy sometime, somewhere and he's been putting it to good use, shoving it front of the noses of busybody passengers and officials and jumping to the front of the line. It's a good thing he thought to don the bodyguard suit he'd had in the boot of his car, fresh from the drycleaners so that he looks the part too.

It takes a few minutes to hail a taxi and then he's off, heading for the Hilton.

He arrives at the hotel shortly before 9.30pm and he's stopped by the mass of security outside the front door. He has to call Liam who then calls down to reception to tell them to let him in. Several of the guards pat him down vigorously in a way that makes him secretly wonder if they are enjoying this possibly a little too much.

"Hello, what have we here," one of the guards announces, pulling the gun from his left holster, and handing it to his colleague.

"And another one," he adds, removing the gun from his right side. "Mate, you can't just wander around with weapons like that here. This isn't the wild west," he finishes, shaking his head.

"I'm Prince Liam's security detail. The weapons are part of the role," he replies, his face tight. All this talk is just slowing down him getting to Liam. And Eleanor.

"Yeah well securities real strict here so you just leave them with us for now, and if we get word from the Prince or the coppers you can have them back."

"Fine," Jasper replies, deciding he doesn't want to waste any more time arguing, he just wants to get inside. "Just don't lose them. Trust me you don't want to be at the centre of a diplomatic incident," he warns, then steps inside the hotel lobby.

Liam emerges from the hotel elevator a few seconds later, flanked by Damien, his new and very inexperienced security detail.

Liam's face breaks into a grim and he greets Jasper with a hug. "I'm so glad you're here."

Normally Jasper would brush off this kind of show of affection, but he knows that Liam must be going through the same kind of hell he is right now, and is worried sick about Eleanor.

Jasper reluctantly submits to the hug for a minute and then extracts himself from Liam's grasp. "What's the news?" he questions, urgently.

"You'll find out in about two minutes. Two Police Officials are coming to brief me at 9.30. Follow me," he instructs, heading for a private meeting room just off the lobby.

Inside the meeting room, Assistant Commissioner Williams and a fellow police officer stand to greet them, Liam offers them his hand and Jasper follows suit. Damien stands silently by the door.

"This is Assistant Commissioner Williams," Liam introduces the Police Officer. "Jasper Frost who is with Royal Protection," he gestures to Jasper on his right.

"This is my colleague Sergeant Muhammed Fawaz, he is with our counter terrorism unit and has been profiling the terrorists and the venue."

Sergeant Fawaz is a handsome young man in his early 30s with a serious face, but a warm smile.

"It's a privilege to meet you Your Highness," says Sergeant Fawaz, "I'm sorry its under such unfortunate circumstances."

Liam nods in acknowledgment of his words. "I'm sorry too, I hope we can manage to end this without any further blood shed."

"Right," starts the Assistant Commissioner. "So I won't run through everything that has already been covered at our previous briefings but I'll just update you on any further information we now have to hand."

"As you'll be aware the 24 deadline expires at 8.30am tomorrow morning," he starts.

Liam turns to Jasper, "The terrorists issued a list of demands at 8.30am this morning, giving us 24 hours to meet them before they start shooting the hostages," he says, his eyebrows tightly knotted together.

Jasper feels a cold trickle of sweat start to slide down the back of his neck at this news. "What are their demands?" he questions sharply.

Liam looks to the Assistant Commissioner who repeats the list.

"They want Israel out of Palestine."

"And they want Isis fighters released from prison in the US, and England and Australia."

The grandiosity of their demands leaves Jasper shocked. He stares back at the two Police Officers in front of him.

"They must know their demands are impossible to meet."

Liam nods in agreement. This is the same conclusion he and the rest of the Police Force came to this morning when the list was first read.

The Prince's voice comes out unsteady because this list could mean life and death for his twin. "Israel will never be persuaded to get out of Palestine and the West will never release Isis extremists. If they do they'll be facing many more bloodbaths in the future."

Eventually Jasper says what every one else in the room is thinking. "So this is Paris all over again then. It's not about negotiation or meeting their demands it's about getting the attention of the world's media and killing as many people as possible while they have the spotlight."

He doesn't add what else he's thinking because its too painful to even say out loud – both for him and Liam – that Eleanor will be their prize trophy, their ceremonial sacrifice.

The Assistant Commissioner clears his throat. "Yes, well they will try and do that but of course we are presently putting a plan in place to extract the hostages safety."

He turns to his colleague. "I'll get Sergeant Fawaz to run through the key intelligence we've gathered about the situation to date."

Sergeant Fawaz glances down at his briefing notes and starts. "So we have an estimated 106 people in the club, plus 5 armed terrorists. Most of the hostages are aged between 18 and 35. We've profiled the terrorists as far as we're able to. Two are native Australians who've recently been radicalized after having spent several months in ISIS training locations. One is from Saudi Arabian, another is from Iran and the third is from the UK but has lived in the Middle East for the past three years."

He bends down to the floor, opens a folder and produces a large floor map. Liam and Jasper lean forward to peer at the drawing.

"This is the layout of the nightclub. You can see there are two exits marked here and here," the officer continues, pointing them out. "The second exit is a fire exit. Windows are along the south wall and over here in the north east of the building plus in one of the two toilets which are shown here. The building is on the third floor."

Jasper leans forward placing his hand on the map. "If the windows are here," he points "and here that means there will be no visibility from the building of any activity along the west side of the building on the street so that is the best point of entry for an attack to break the siege," he looks up and the two police officers nod back at him. "Correct."

"If I may," Sergeant Fawaz continues, "we are currently examining using the ventilation pipes into the building to pipe in gas to disable the terrorists."

Liam looks up and eyeballs him, "isn't that dangerous?" He remembers the use of gas during the Moscow hostage crisis, where many people died from gas inhalation.

"We have had advice from our health advisors on this. There is a new product on the market and if used correctly they believe there will be few casualties. That is not to say that we can guarantee there will be no deaths but this is quite a different situation to Moscow which you may be thinking of. In Moscow the medical authorities were dealing with almost a thousand patients so there was a significant delay in treating the hostages. The Russians also refused to disclose the type of gas used so doctors weren't able to adequately treat their patients," Sergeant Fawaz replies.

"If we proceed with the use of gas we would, of course, make sure medical facilities were on standby to receive patients and were fully informed of the type of chemical used. Our observation points from neighbouring buildings indicate the hostages are on the floor and the terrorists are standing and anyone standing will be affected by the agent before those on the floor."

"So you would pump the gas inside, and then send in your special forces shortly after that?" Liam questions.

Both Sergeant Fawaz and Assistant Commissioner nod in agreement.

Jasper is sitting back in his seat contemplating their plan. It concerns him that there is a risk that using gas could kill Eleanor, especially as she is so slight. And if the terrorists realise what's happening there is still a chance they may open fire on the hostages before the special forces arrive.

But should they go in there in an armed siege, Eleanor may be the first person the terrorists attack, because she's high profile. The death of one unnamed Australian would be quickly forgotten by the international media, but the murder of a Princess would be remembered for ever and their objective would have been achieved by just this one action.

"Will you be monitoring the situation and have your force ready to go in if they realise they're being gassed and start shooting," Jasper questions.

"Absolutely," Sergeant Fawaz replies. "Our unit is highly trained and would activate as soon as any shots are fired. I would add that our tactics have been discussed with our counterparts in Britain and they are in full agreement with our plan."

Liam has his head in his hands, but Jasper leans forward and nods his head. "The gas sounds like the best option we have available. When do we go in?"

The Assistant Commissioner bristles slightly. "Gas would start being pumped at 6.30am and our special tactics division is planning an assault at 6.45am. Alone," he adds with emphasis.

"I want Jasper with them," Liam announces suddenly. "He can be at the back and you can give him the necessary equipment but I want him there for Eleanor. I trust him to get her out alive."

The Australian Police Officers on the scene will have to consider the safety of over a hundred hostages, but Liam knows that Jasper will have only one objective and will sacrifice everything to protect Eleanor, even his own life if need be.

Liam looks over to Jasper, who gives him a rare smile in return. Whatever goes down in that club tomorrow morning, the only place he wants to be is by Eleanor's side.

"Your Highness, this is a highly specialised operation…" the Assistant Commissioner begins.

"I understand that," Liam interrupts, "and Jasper has all the necessary skills. Please make the arrangements. He will be available to be briefed on the operation whenever you require him," he finishes with an air of Royal authority and stands up. "Was there anything more?" he asks.

The Assistant Commissioner shakes him head, looking mildly peeved at his defeat. "Would you like me to brief His Majesty King Robert? He asked to be kept fully updated as well."

"I can do that," Liam replies.

"Very well. I will phone you at 11.30 tonight with a further update."

"Thank you," Liam says.

Liam looks over at his friend and bodyguard. There's no mistaking the expression on his face, because he's seen the exact same look on his face during the many hours he spent trawling through footage to find his father's assassin. Liam recognises it as ruthless determination to achieve his objective and a desire for revenge.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for the reviews. Here is the next chapter, quite pronto!

 _6.20am Sydney, 30 hours since siege began_

Eleanor wakes from a fitful slumber to find her face resting against the chest of a fat stranger in a too tight shirt, a goatee and glasses. The girl to her left has her limbs splayed all over her, keeping her pinned to the floor. Her neck and ribs aches from spending all night on a hard wooden floor. It's all oddly reminiscent of one of her wilder nights out, only this is the stuff of nightmares.

The lights have stayed on all night, but the rest of the room is quiet. There is not enough room for this many people to lie down and the rest of the room is a tangle of limbs. Dotted amongst the crowd a few faces sit up, silently alert and ever watchful.

She is hungry and her throat is dry once more.

Its took over 3 hours of negotiations for them to be fed for the first time yesterday at 2pm when the Police arranged the delivery of a two dozen pizza boxes to near the door of the club. Along with the pizza came the bottles of water they are beginning to crave. The pizza was passed around ravenously by the hostages. The got a second delivery at 11pm the same as before – more pizza and more water. This time the people nearest the door have stuffed themselves full and there are only empty boxes by the time they reach where she is so she went hungry all evening.

She needs to use the toilet and by now she knows the drill. She lifts her neighbours legs off her, trying not to wake her and raises her hand.

After a few minutes one of the terrorists comes over to her, grabs her arm and drags her upright. He points a gun into her back and she makes her way towards the ladies toilets. He stands outside the bathroom, with his back to the wall, staring ominously at the crowd through his black balaclava.

When she emerges from the toilet into the bathroom, she washes her hands and dries them carefully on a paper towel. She catches sight of herself in the mirror and she looks less like herself than ever before. Gone is the confident, direct stare and artful makeup. The face that looks back at her has huge eyes, a wary expression and, aside from the eyeliner and the faint smudge of lipstick still, only a trace of the makeup she applied two days ago is now left. She looks like a child.

She moves out into the hallway and takes two steps back towards the dance floor area when the man in the balaclava grabs her arms and shoves her into a room just off the hall.

The room is pitch black and she can feel the press of fabric all around her. He switches on the light and she finds herself in a small cloakroom with no windows. There is only one door and the man is standing in front of it.

He stares at her with a hard expression on his face. She thinks he is trying to intimidate her, and she lifts her chin and stares right back at him.

"Are you looking forward to death?" he questions.

Its not a conversation opener she's heard before and she visibly shudders at the chill it sends down her spine.

She straightens herself to stand correctly the way a Princess is supposed to. "Are you?" she returns the question.

He actually has the nerve to smirk at her question. "Yes. Paradise awaits me. But not you Princess."

He takes a step towards her. "You know that you will be the first die," he says conversationally. "We will record it on camera for the world to see. The west has many sins and you have many sins so it is right that you be punished. Perhaps I will shoot you myself. I do not know, it has not been decided," he shrugs.

Eleanor stands stock still, frozen to her spot in the middle of the room as she watches him talk about her death as casually as if he were planning his television viewing for the evening.

When she was a teenager she wanted so much to carve a place for herself in the world, to be remembered for something – as a style icon, a trendsetter, someone who lived like a rock and roll star as if there was no tomorrow. But now she'll be remembered for how she was in her last moments – terrified, alone, unloved, maybe crying and pleading for her life.

He takes another step towards her and looks her slowly up and down. His gun is pointing towards her heart. In Paradise he will be a matyr and his sins on earth will be washed away.

He presses the gun into her chest and shoves her down onto the floor.

"You are called a Princess but you are nothing but a whore. This is what happens to whores," he says, and his hands are tearing at her top, and shoving her skirt up.

His weight is heavy on top of her, pressing her down. She scratches at him and fights him. Her heart is hammering so fast she can't even breathe but she knows there is no point in calling out. In the club are more men with guns and no one will rescue her today.

She doesn't know if its from a shortness of breath but she is starting to feel dizzy.

Her eyes start to sting and she feels suddenly exhausted. She no longer has the strength to fight him. Her body goes limp as somewhere off in the distance the sound of gunshots can be heard.

Her head rolls to the side, her eyes flutter shut and darkness envelops her.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for the reviews last chapter, its great getting your comments.

Next chapter – Jasper in action…

 **Sydney: 6.39am, 30 hours since siege began. An attempt to break the deadlock commences**

Jasper is at the back of a line of dozen men dressed in black, crouched silently against the brick wall of the nightclub in central Sydney.

Last night he spent an hour in a briefing at Police HQ, and this morning he reported for duty at 4.30am for a second briefing recap.

He's removed his bodyguard suit and he has a bulletproof vest, helmut, earpiece and military assault weapon and a black fitted top and pants. They've been there for 30 minutes now and as the time draws near, he's never been more fuelled by adrenalin.

Daylight will break in 35 minutes. He checks his watch and it reads 007:47. Less than ten minutes until they will go inside.

So far everything is going according to plan. In his ear, he's getting reports of what's happening inside. The special tactics unit's intelligence support team is feeding them updated data every minute. From the vantage points in neighbouring high rises and the thermal imaging data they're getting from inside the building, they know that there are now three terrorists down, and most of the hostages are on the ground.

Outside, the city has been cleared of people by the curfew in place. The men in his unit make an art of never making a sound, communicating in gestures and silently mouthed commands.

All of a sudden he hears the sound of gunshots ring out loud and clear, cutting through the still of the night. In his ear he hears a string of urgent communications back and forth between intelligence and their unit commander until he hears one of a series of code words he's been trained to act on and then the words, "Go, Go, Go" yelled in his ear.

He's on his feet in a second, heart racing and legs pumping as he races towards his objective, as more shots fire in quick succession.

A minute later he's finally inside the building, and everything is chaos and confusion.

On the floor are a sea of bodies, he thinks there's maybe ten or twelve people dead. Most of the hostages have been knocked out by the gas. He counts four people still alert and conscious, their faces a mixture of terror and relief.

The special tactics team is swarming over the terrorists, enacting their first objective which is to disable and disarm their targets. Three of the terrorists are unconscious, while one is still struggling. Three officers hold him down in a vice like grip. Outside, paramedics stand alert with their ambulances, waiting for the all clear to be given for them to enter the building and start removing the hostages.

It takes him a matter of seconds to take in the scene inside and then his eyes are scanning the room, seeking out a slender form with long dark hair. He picks his way right across the floor, examining the bodies. He doesn't fail to miss the familiar form of James Hill and he quickly places his finger on his pulse, then stands back for a moment and runs his hands over the dead man's eyes, closing them one last time. By the time he reaches the other side of the room and he still hasn't found her, the panic is starting to rise in his throat. Is she there and he missed her or is she somewhere else in the building?

He runs towards the hallway and shoves open the bathroom. He checks the ladies, and then the men's. Next door there is a staff area that he quickly scans and then he pushes open the final door.

At first he only sees a man lying on the floor. His black clothing and balaclava confirms he is the fifth terrorist. His build is broad and tall and he has a gun in his hand.

It's only as he steps closer towards him that he sees that there is something underneath him.

A glossy length of dark hair peeks out from the man's left side and his heart contracts. Eleanor.

Jasper dashes over to her. The man weighs heavily on the Princess and it takes a good shove to heft him off her. When he's rolled over and flat on his back it reveals that Eleanor's top has been ripped off and her skirt is hiked up around her hips.

When he takes it in he feels so enraged he doesn't even stop to think before grabbing the gun from the man's still but warm, living hands. He fires two quick shots into his chest and then pushes his hair back from his face which is now slick with sweat.

He leans over and an immense sense of relief floods over him as he feels a gentle breath of air from her mouth and he knows that she is not dead.

Not dead, he repeats to himself in his head.

He removes his coat and carefully places it over Eleanor so that the back of his jacket covers her chest and wraps the sleeves around her back, then pulls her skirt down so it is decent. There's a hundred people still in the room next door and he knows from experience that wherever a princess goes, the cameras and reporters will follow, even if its in an ambulance. He can't leave her exposed. The photos and film footage will never go away and he has to protect her from the world.

A few seconds later two armed policemen burst into the room but he has her tight in his arms. They stand aside as he carries her through the door out into the club and then through the exit. They swiftly move to secure the final terrorist.

It's only a few more yards to get her to a waiting ambulance where another patient has already been loaded in and strapped down. A minute after Eleanor's inside there're off, sirens blaring, at speed, while the ambulance staff make a series of rapid checks on their patients.

Twelve minutes later they pull up at a hospital. There are five other ambulances already there unloading patients. Somehow in the matter of minutes it has taken them to arrive at the hospital, half a dozen reporters have arrived with their cameras and a crowd of around twenty people is already forming behind a wire fence.

When he steps outside as Eleanor is wheeled out of the ambulance he meets the glare of cameras flashing and a cheer goes up from the crowd, the same cheer that goes up every time someone emerges out of an ambulance alive. A few seconds later someone screams that it's the Princess and that causes an uproar as photographers and journalists and the crowd start yelling at them to give them an update on her condition.

Jasper ignores everything except the only thing that is important - the unconscious girl his hand holds fast to, his hand wrapped around hers as tight as the hold she has on his heart.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks for the reviews last chapter everyone. Next chapter below, and I was reading it through and its really long, but anyway here goes:_

It takes twenty five minutes for Liam to be escorted over from Police HQ to the hospital. Accompanying him is a Police Liason officer, a Police Officer and his bodyguard Damian.

When he arrives he finds Jasper pacing the corridor outside Eleanor's bedroom with a dark expression on his face.

"Is she all right?" He questions immediately, picking up on Jasper's worried face. "They said she wasn't shot."

"She wasn't," Jasper assures him. "Can I speak with you alone?" he asks Liam, in a lowered voice.

Liam raises his eyebrows, but nods. He follows Jasper further down the corridor.

Damian makes a move to start to follow Liam but Jasper looks at him and quickly shakes his head, and he falls back to where he was before.

Jasper runs a hand through his hair and turns back to face Liam. "Eleven people were shot in the building. One of them was James Hill," he starts.

Liam's face falls. "He was a good guy. She didn't say as much but Lenny actually adored him. She'll be gutted over this."

Jasper nods. He knows Eleanor and her new bodyguard were firm friends, and after the Kings death Mr Hill became the nearest thing to a father she had. This is one more blow that Eleanor doesn't need right now.

He steels himself up to break some further bad news. It's not something he wanted to have to break to Liam.

"Liam, when I got to Eleanor inside the building she wasn't with the other hostages. She was in another room with one of the terrorists. There were some signs that she might have been raped by him. I couldn't tell how far things went before the gas knocked them both out."

Liam stares back at Jasper, whose finished speaking but his jaw is tight with barely suppressed anger and his eyes are darker than he's ever seen them.

Liam falls back against the wall, resting against it for support. He prepared himself for her being shot. He prepared himself should she have some kind of reaction to the gas.

But he's not prepared for this.

"What signs?" Liam demands.

Jasper shakes his head and turns away from him. "Signs," is all he repeats.

Jasper's pretty sure he doesn't want to hear exactly how he found her, hell he doesn't even want to remember how he found her because it makes him feel physically sick. That her top was ripped off, her skirt was hiked up. That he was on top of her with his belt loosened and his pants half way down.

"What signs?" Liam yells at him angrily, repeating the question.

"He was on top of her and she was half undressed," Jasper mutters, editing out the explicit details.

"Where is the bastard now?" Liam demands, looking like he wants to burst into his room and take him out.

"I shot him," Jasper replies back. "He got exactly what he deserved," he adds viciously.

"Good," Liam replies. "I have to see her."

* * *

Liam comes back out after twenty minutes and Jasper is still waiting in the hall. He's resting against a wall and his posture looks casual, but his face is a picture of tension.

"How is she?" Jasper questions urgently. "Do they know if anything happened to her?"

"She's unconscious still and they think it will be another couple of hours before she wakes," Liam replies.

"They don't know if anything happened to her. She has some bruises on her but they don't want to examine her properly until she's awake and can consent to it," Liam's voice is tight and he looks like he's about to cry.

He's going to have to call Robbie and tell him about this. Robbie's fiercely protective of Eleanor and he's probably going to explode over this. For everything that she's done, she's still his baby sister and the thought of someone hurting her is hard for either of them to stomach.

"I have to make a phone call," Liam says. "But I wanted to thank you for getting her out. You risked your life for her and I won't ever forget it," Liam steps forward and pulls him into a quick hug, then releases him.

"You can go and see her if you want. I told them you're allowed in," Liam says.

* * *

The first thing Eleanor remembers is seeing Liam is by her bedside. He takes her hand and smiles at her.

"You don't know how happy I am to see you again," he says. It sounds like he's talking from a long way away and the edge of her field of vision is blurry.

She puts a hand on her forehead. "Where am I?"

"In a hospital. In Sydney. Alive," he adds the last word, with emphasis.

"I don't feel very alive," she counters, attempting to pull herself upright.

Liam leans forward to help her sit up and then adjusts the pillows behind her. "You definitely are. Turns out you're quite resilient to foreign substances but then I guess you've probably built up quite a tolerance over the past couple of years."

"Yeah I have," she replies, vaguely smiling back at him. "Did they give me some painkillers?' she questions.

"They gassed you to knock you out. The whole room," Liam replies.

"Bloody Hell. So that's why I feel like crap. What time is it then?" she asks.

Liam looks at his watch. "1.15pm. Lunch should be ready soon I think," he says.

He keeps looking at her and even in her bedfuddled state she can tell he's working himself up to say something.

"Len, how much do you remember of what happened before the Police stormed into the club and ended the siege?" he asks carefully.

She leans back against the pillows, frowning. "I remember waking up in the morning. It was quiet and everyone else was still asleep. I put my hand up to go to the toilet. Then one of the terrorists walked me to the bathroom."

She pauses and there is a look of concentration on her face as she tries to remember. "I don't remember ever getting back to where the dance floor was. There was a room…a small room with no windows somewhere near the bathroom and that was where I was. The man – he said he was going to shoot me and they were going to record it on video for everyone to see," her voice starts to wobble.

Liam still has her hand in his and he gives it a gentle squeeze. "You're safe now Len, no one can hurt you. I promise."

She feels safe with Liam by her side and leans in closer so that her head is resting against his shoulder.

"I remember him hitting me and pushing me down on the floor. I think he was trying to kill me. I don't remember anything after that," she says.

"Were there many people killed?" she asks quietly.

"Twelve," Liam replies. They've just had word that one of the hostages has died from gas inhalation. James Hill has also been confirmed as one of the deaths but he can't bring himself to tell her this right now.

But she does remember that quite clearly. The tears start to cloud her eyes.

"I want Robbie to make sure that Mr Hill's niece is taken care of. She's called Sarah and she's seven. He only wanted the best for her and you tell him he has to arrange for her to go to a good home," her voice is fierce. "And he can get out the family chequebook for her too," she adds.

"I'll tell him," Liam promises.

"Is Emily?" Eleanor starts.

"She's fine," Liam replies. Eleanor's lady in waiting is unharmed and lying only a few rooms down the corridor.

Both of them fall silent, with only the background noise of the regular beeps from the monitor she is connected to break the silence.

She's been slumped back against the pillows but when she looks up again she sees she is not the only one crying, because Liam's eyes are red too. She didn't think Mr Hill's death would hit him so hard.

"Lenny, one of the nurses is going to come and examine you this afternoon," Liam says.

"Ok," she replies evenly. It's probably to be expected that they would want to check her over before they let her go home.

"Before the siege ended we don't know what exactly happened but one of the terrorists may have attacked you. Sexually, that is," Liam can't even look at her now and he's staring hard at his hands.

"I'm really sorry. We just don't know right now for sure one way or the other. It's possible it didn't happen at all."

He finally looks up at her, "but either way remember that we love you and we'll support you. Me and Robbie and Mum. All of us."

Eleanor stares back at him, shocked. She doesn't have any memory of that at all.

She's been with a lot of men. But this man has just been involved in the slaughter of a dozen people, including one of her best friends and is the same man who told her so dispassionately she would soon have her brains blown out. And the thought of him touching her makes her blood run cold.

Eleanor falls silent.

A moment later an orderly enters the room with her lunch. She places it on her tray. "Thank you," Liam replies politely as she departs.

Eleanor eyes it unenthusiastically, while Liam stands up and in an uncharacteristic display of emotion kisses her on the forehead.

"I'll go and get you some things from the hotel now. A change of clothes. What else do you want – makeup? Some magazines?"

"Cigarettes. And drugs. Class A drugs. The good stuff," Eleanor replies back promptly. Being awake is depressing it turns out and she's already starting to crave a smoke. And she doesn't have any drugs with her any more, but that doesn't stop her wishing.

"And makeup of course." When she leaves this place, they'll probably be a hoard of cameras and she can't face the world right now in anything less than full makeup.

Liam shakes his head. "This is a hospital, they'll never let you smoke in here. Or ingest anything illegal, especially when it could react with what the Police used to knock you out," he lectures.

"They don't let the patients smoke. But I'm a Princess Liam. Who's going to tell off a Princesses if there's a lingering trace of smoke in the air?," Eleanor challenges back.

"No cigarettes and no drugs," Liam replies with an air of finality. "And make sure you eat every mouthful, even if you hate it," he adds, nodding towards her lunch.

"I do hate it," she replies, making a face as she takes a bite. She's only eating it because she's starving right now.

"That means its good for you," he says back, moving towards the door. "I won't be too long."

He shuts the door, and she looks around the room properly for the first time. Without someone else in the room, it's clinically cold in its surgical whiteness, silent and full of authoritarian rules.

She hates everything about this place and she just wants to be home.

* * *

She's dozing against the pillow when Jasper comes in.

He doesn't wake her, just sits there, one knee elevated on top of the other, hand on his chin watching her while she sleeps.

Eventually he gives in to what he's been longing to do ever since he came in and he steps up by her bedside.

It's been nearly two days since she was taken hostage but Eleanor looks as beautiful as ever, only younger with only a trace of the makeup remaining.

He leans forward and his hand ghosts over her hair and her cheek.

He stays there for as long as he dares, then goes back to the chair and settles himself down there.

20 minutes later, she wakes. "Hey," he greets her, softly.

Even though her vision is still a little blurry, she would recognise that voice anywhere.

"Hi," she replies back, looking confused.

"You want some water?" he offers.

Her throat is killing her, she nods and he comes around and pours her a glass.

"Thank you," she says, as he hands her a glass.

"I've been waiting for you to wake up," he says, as she takes small sips.

She puts the glass down on the table beside her.

"Yeah, it turns out that getting gassed makes me sleepy. Who would have guessed?" she adds sarcastically. "Why the hell are you here anyway?", she asks, brows knotting together. Last thing she heard about him was that he was in Vegas from Mr Hill and Sydney is a long way from Las Vegas.

Her head feels heavy and she collapses back into the pillow.

"I'm here because your security detail is unavailable and Liam's new security detail is straight out of school and has spent the past couple of days shitting himself. And of course the Palace's new Head of Security has been in the job for all of two weeks and can't leave London anyway. They needed someone who had some experience of Royal Protection to coordinate security for you and Liam right now I'm the only person with a clue how to do that."

That's the official explanation which reflects his current status after Liam pulled some strings yesterday. He doesn't tell her that the Palace never asked him to come, no one asked him to come, but that he didn't hesitate to come because it was about her.

"How are you feeling now?' Jasper asks.

"I'd say this is the equivalent to around a dozen shots plus getting my head concussed. So only slightly worse than a standard night out," Eleanor replies.

"Do you remember what happened before you blacked out?" It's a delicate question but he just has to know what happened. He wants to know if she's been hurt.

Eleanor looks at him for a minute, then replies in a sharp voice. "Of course. We were held hostage for two nights by crazy terrorists and a lot of people were shot."

"I meant do you remember what happened in the room you were in with the terrorist?," Jasper asks, pressing his point.

She knows that's what he was angling for in the first place, but he is nothing to her now, not her bodyguard, not her boyfriend and he left the Palace after having manipulated and lied to her, cheated on her with her mother and tried to steal from her. What right does he have to ask her that?

"I don't bloody know, ok," she snaps, placing a hand on her forehead.

Liam's said that when they found her they thought the terrorist may have raped her and that idea is utterly repellent to her.

Inside the club, although the hostages were not allowed to speak one word to each other, the lines were so clearly drawn between hostage and terrorist. Us and them. Good and bad.

Now that she's found out what one of the terrorists may have done to her she feels as if he has used her unwilling, unconscious body to collude with their murderous aims. As if he was trying to make her one of them.

She will never be like them, she thinks fiercely.

Jasper gives her a long, calculating look and she deliberately turns her head towards the window and ignores him.

If he's trying to psychoanalyse her, he can piss off. She's about to say as much when a plump middle aged nurse with a cheerful smile enters the room.

"I'm Mary," she announces. "Can I speak with you alone dear?"

Jasper keeps looking at her with an expression she finds hard to read.

"Sir?" the nurse prompts, and Jasper finally takes the cue to leave. "I'll come back and see you later," he says, then closes the door behind him.

The nurse evidently notices the tension in the air and moves to dispel it. "How are you feeling now?" she questions.

"I've had better days," Eleanor replies, grimacing.

"You poor thing. Well now, I understand that you're not exactly sure what happened while you were sedated with gas when the siege ended. The examination which I'm about to do should confirm whether any assault took place," the nurse is speaking in an even, calm tone as she unpacks the items in the box while Eleanor watches apprehensively. She doesn't like the look of the tool she's just unpacked.

"It will take a little while and I'll tell you what I'll do before it happens. If there's anything that you're not comfortable with you just let me know and I'll stop. Is that ok?"

Eleanor nods silently. It's not like she has much of a choice but to go through with this. Both her brothers are beside themselves over this, and for her own piece of mind, she has to know one way or the other what actually happened.

"Now can I ask you to take off your clothes. You can step over there and I'll pull the curtain, and then when you're ready come and hop onto the bed and lie down."

Eleanor steps over to the corner while the nurse tugs the curtains around her for privacy.


	8. Chapter 8

_Again thank you for the reviews. Next chapter is up below:_

It's a huge relief when the nurse tells her that based on her examination, no assault took place.

Liam looks as if a massive weight has been lifted from his shoulders when he hears the news. A minute later he goes to tell Jasper.

"Thank god," Jasper says, showing one of his rare smiles. All he ever wanted was for her to be safe. At last he's finally able to relax for the first time in two days.

They still want to keep her in overnight to be sure there's no adverse reaction to the gas, but tomorrow morning she'll be able to go back to the hotel.

* * *

The Princesses' discharge actually can't come soon enough for the long suffering nurses who are overseeing her care because she's proving to be a terrible patient.

She complained about the food when her dinner was brought in, and only ate it when her brother was brought in with her phone which the Police had recovered from the club and persuades her to eat it in exchange for the return of her phone.

Left alone for just ten minutes after dinner, she's managed to unhook herself from the monitor and after an extensive search of the ward, she's found chatting with her lady in waiting five rooms down.

When's she's brought back to her room, five minutes later she takes it upon herself to unhook herself again, and shower and dress herself in the tank top and skirt Liam has brought for her.

By 8pm she's definitely had as much as she can take of this place. Aside from the terrible food and the lack of civilized amenities like a TV, the thing that's driving her the most crazy is that she is dying for a smoke.

She's sits up in bed and carefully applies her makeup until its done to her satisfaction. Several floors down, outside her window she can see the TV crews and reporters huddled into a press pack and she knows she'll have to brave them to get out of here.

She packs her bag, and heads down to the reception where she instructs the awestruck young receptionist that she's checking out.

Then she calls Liam, who went back to the hotel after dinner, and tells him to come and pick her up.

'You can't just discharge yourself," he argues, irritated.

"And yet I just did," she replies back promptly.

Liam's exhausted. He's hardly had any sleep over the past two days and he's not spending a third sleepless night watching over his sister when she should be in hospital.

"Yeah I'm not coming down there and you're staying over night," he replies firmly and hangs up the phone.

Just then a frazzled grey haired nurse enters the reception, accompanying by Jasper, who had until recently been enjoying a quiet dinner in the hospital café, having decided to stay late to keep an eye on the Princess.

"There she is," she exclaims. "Your Highness you need to come back to bed now. You can check out in the morning."

The Princess is a right piece of work, disobedient, complains about the food and is always escaping off to places she shouldn't be. But if anything were to happen to her because of a lack of care by the hospital, the media would be all over the story, and she would very likely lose her job.

"I'm leaving right now," Eleanor announces.

"Your Highness you need to stay under observation until morning. We can't be sure there won't be some reaction to the gas until 24 hours-" the nurse is talking, until Eleanor abruptly interrupts.

"Whatever kind of reaction I may have to the gas can't be any worse than the reaction I'm having to being cooped up in this place with no TV, no fun and no bloody cigarettes. Now I'm 22, and of sound mind –"

"Arguable," Jasper mutters and she shoots him a death stare.

"I'm of sound mind," Eleanor repeats, ignoring his rude interruption. "And you can't keep me here without my consent. So I've checked myself out. I know my rights."

Eleanor turns to Jasper. He may be an interfering, scheming bastard, but he's also her quickest route out of this hellhole.

"Jasper if you have a car you may drive me to my hotel now," she announces, issuing a royal command.

The nurse has now given up the fight. Technically, the Princess is right. They can't force her to stay overnight. And if she's discharged herself she's no longer the hospital's responsibility. She huffs, then turns on her heel and marches back towards the wards.

There's a stand-off between Eleanor and Jasper for a full minute.

"Fine," Jasper says ungraciously. "But you can explain this to your brother."

"Of course, thank you," Eleanor replies in her best Princess voice, then turns to exit the hospital towards the waiting media scrum, with Jasper in tow.


	9. Chapter 9

_Next chapter below and it's a longer one._

 _Also M rated. I hope you like it!_

Eleanor makes Jasper stop at the first shop they pass. He trails in after her so she can buy cigarettes. Of course she has to endure the dropped jaw and stares of the shopkeeper, but he actually manages to wish her well and says he's pleased she got out alive, after she's completed her purchase.

The rest of the way back, Eleanor smokes non-stop while her mother talks in her ear over the phone. It's still feels weird to her that her mother is managing to be nice to her, but at least both of them are trying here, she supposes.

When she's been on the phone for fifteen minutes, her mother passes the phone to Robbie and then she has to speak to him for another ten minutes to reassure him there's no harm done and she's gotten out unharmed.

When they get back to the hotel, she knocks on Liam's door but he doesn't answer.

"Good evening your Highness," the Policeman standing by his door greets her, drawing himself up to his full height. "Prince Liam is asleep."

At least he can't drag her back to the hospital if he's asleep, she thinks to herself. She gets out her phone and types him a quick text letting him know she's at the hotel, so he doesn't worry if he tries to contact the hospital tomorrow and finds she's not there.

Eleanor opens the door to her room, which is next to Liam's.

Jasper follows her in, uninvited, shuts the door and leans back against it, watching her. "I'll stay in here tonight. The city's still on terror alert and you're supposed to be under observation until morning."

Its so typical of Jasper to find some way to weasel himself back into her life, whether she wants him there or not. Bastard.

"I don't need you in here. I'll be fine," she replies. "Now off you go," she gestures towards the door in dismissal.

"I'm in here for your protection. Your brother's had about four hours sleep over the past two days because he's been worried sick about you, but if you want me to wake him I will, and he'll agree with me," Jasper replies, raising his eyebrows. "Or else he'll get me to take you back to hospital instead. Where you belong," he adds, with emphasis.

She could argue with him some more, but she's still feeling the effects of the gas and she's pretty tired herself, and in matters of her security both Jasper and her brother are normally impossible to budge, so its probably pointless. And the idea of going back to hospital is considerably worse than the alternative.

"Don't think I'm letting you back in my bed," she counters, instead.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he replies back.

He wanders over to the couch and leans over to pick up a room service menu. "Do you need something to eat?," he questions.

"The hospital made me eat some disgusting slop for lunch and dinner which was clearly designed for old people with no teeth. Pureed to smithereens," Eleanor replies, making a face.

Jasper smirks briefly. It could well be true, but the Princess has never had to eat anything that wasn't prepared by a professional chef, so she probably wouldn't take well to standard fare.

"Yes well, I guess life in an institution is slightly more challenging when there's no ecstacy," Jasper deadpans.

"You're telling me," Eleanor huffs in reply, as she slumps back on the bed. If she was on ecstacy, hospital food would probably taste like gourmet fare, and she'd be feeling a million dollars, instead of like shit.

She leans forward and grabs the remote. She didn't think of it but of course when she switches it on there's coverage of the aftermath of the siege. A reporter is outside the hospital she left only half an hour before and across the screen the scrolling bar reads. "Sydney siege ends - 12 hostages and 1 terrorist dead. 4 terrorists in custody. PM sends condolences to victim's families."

It's too fresh for her to watch, but she's transfixed by it and can't bring herself to switch it off.

The reporter is interviewing the mother of a young man who was shot. She is weeping and being supported by her daughter.

"You know if I hadn't been in that club, none of those people would have been shot," Eleanor says slowly. He can hear from the way her voice cracks that she's on the verge of tears. "I was the target, I was the one they wanted."

Jasper puts down the TV guide he's started browsing and looks at her steadily. "Eleanor you can't do this to yourself-," he starts.

"I could see some of the people in the club looking at me and thinking that I was the reason the terrorists were there," it's too late to stop her because she has already gone there, gone right back to the club and is reliving it before his eyes. "I think they hated me, not all of them, but definitely some of them."

Jasper swallows and his eyebrows knot together but he lets her keep speaking.

"We had to watch people dying in front of us. Ordinary people, no different to any one else. Just young people who'd come for a night out, shot right there on the floor. And James too. He was doing his job and protecting me. It took hours for James to die and they wouldn't even let me hold his hand," a tear track rolls down her face.

"It's a dreadful world we live in where people do these things to each other," she finishes, wrapping her arms around herself to hold herself together as she tries to hold back the tears.

"None of the things that happened in that club were your fault Eleanor," Jasper comes over to near where she is sitting. He picks up the remote and switches the TV off. She's spent the past two days being terrified and terrorised. She doesn't need to be reminded of that now.

"You weren't responsible for any of the decisions or any of the actions that killed people, every one of those decisions were made by other people."

He bends down and gently lifts her chin up to get her to look at him. "None of this is on you," he says with emphasis.

Eleanor swipes a hand over her tear stained face and looks back at him for a second.

She doesn't say anything, but he feels like he's made his point and he releases her.

Jasper moves to the foot of the bed and starts loosening his tie. He changed out of his black special tactics uniform into his official bodyguard suit at the hospital.

Eleanor watches him for a moment then gets up off the bed, abruptly, and stands facing the window. Just from that one gesture she has an eerie feeling of déjà vu, because most of the intimate encounters they've ever had have started with him loosening his tie before any other clothing comes off.

And Jasper may be a conniving, lying, thieving, traitorous, two timing son of a bitch, but in spite of that, she still wants his hands on her again, all over her, like before and she despises herself for her weakness.

From the corner of the room, she can hear the rustle of fabric. She recognises the sound of Jasper removing his jacket and most likely tossing it on a nearby chair.

She doesn't turn her head to watch him but keeps her eyes fixed on the street down below, where everything is still and silent. The curfew is still in place for the evening.

Jasper has this thing, which she supposes is part bodyguard related and part con artist related, where he can move almost anywhere silently, and turn up right beside you without warning.

Right now, she only notices he's standing behind her when she feels his breath on her neck, and then his hand runs down her arm in a slow caress.

"You know I thought I was going to lose you today," he says into her ear, and even to her jaded self, his voice sounds tortured.

"I thought that that bastard had hurt you. I don't want anyone to ever hurt you, I don't want any other man to touch you, except me."

His arm shifts to wrap around her waist possessively. "I can't lose you. I need you to be mine again, even if it's just for one night," he breathes the words as his lips press against her cheek, and she can't help but shift in his embrace to clasp his arms more tightly around hers.

His thoughts mirror hers. He thought he was going to lose her, and she thought she was going to die. He wants her again for one night, and she spent her time inside the club regretting that she might never have the chance to see him again, or have him hold her one more time.

It's been over 24 hours since he's showered and the scent of sweat clings to his body. Its earthly and masculine and she remembers it from her bed at the Palace – on the sheets, in her hair, on her skin. "It smells of sex in here," she remembers her mother announcing as she entered her room.

He shifts and starts running a hand down her hair in slow strokes, and the effect is mesmerising. She feels like she is falling, sinking deeper and deeper into something Jasper is the cause of. However much she might try and fight it, the attraction between them is too strong to resist, especially in her semi drugged post siege state.

"Just for one night," she says, repeating his words.

He lets go of her waist and comes round in front of her, then spins her around so that her back is pressed up against the wall. Too fast her hands are on his chest, tugging at his buttons and his hands tangle in her hair, pulling her hair back as his lips slide down her neck.

She grabs his shirt and forces it off his shoulders and drags at his belt, while he pulls her top off and unhooks her bra. His hands tussle with her skirt, hiking it up higher, then tug at her panties to pull them down. He removes his pants as she slides her panties down her legs and steps out of them. The moment she's free he grabs her and pulls her into him, sliding his hand down her back and shifting her knee so it rests against his back. She hooks both legs around his back and holds on to his shoulders as he eases himself into her. He fills her up entirely.

It's been seven months since the last time he had her, and its been the longest seven months of his life. Now it feels so right to have her body wrapped so tight around him once again.

She closes her eyes for a minute, and when she opens then again Jasper is staring back at her possessively. "You're mine, Eleanor," he says, staking his claim to her body and her heart.

She doesn't care if he wants to own her, just as long as he gives her what she needs here tonight.

His mouth is hot against hers, and she can't breathe as he starts to move inside her, pushing her up against the hard wood of the wall.

"I want you so much, baby," he says against her lips, as her fingernails claw into his skin. He likes her like this best of all, wild and beautiful.

At first he moves in slow, deep thrusts, drawing it out in a way that leaves her aching for more.

"Go faster," she tells him impatiently, pulling him into her. He smirks into her cheek, "you want more of this?"

"Yes, more," she demands.

He still keeps to the same measured pace, torturing her a little longer to let her know he's in control here, but after a few minutes he starts to quicken his pace, and her knees press harder into his back every time he thrusts inside her. She wants all of him inside her, right here, right now.

Her fingers trace over the muscles of his chest, and he runs his hand down her neck and over her breast, then comes to rest around her waist.

Suddenly everything becomes so fast and desperate between them as he starts to pound into her furiously in a way that makes her feel dizzy. She has to bite her lip against his shoulder to stop from waking up Liam next door as she moans against his skin. He comes quick and hard inside her a few seconds after her. He keeps a hold of her, still lifting her to rest against the wall while her head rolls back against the wall, and her cheeks flush pink.

He leans forward and his lips invade hers while his other hand threads into her fingers against the wall. Eventually he rests his forehead, slick with sweat against hers, releases her legs from around his waist and slides her down to the floor.

She rests a hand against the wall for support and then turns on unsteady legs, her face breathless and flushed.


	10. Chapter 10

_Thanks for your reviews, so pleased you are liking the story. Next chapter – its not plain sailing…_

"Len open up," Eleanor wakes to hear Liam's voice as he raps on her door.

Eleanor glances at the alarm clock beside the bed. 7.47am. It feels a lot earlier.

"Go away," she groans, pulling the covers back over her head.

Liam keeps knocking on the door. "Get up. I have a surprise for you."

He's not giving up and she's going to have to let him in.

Beside her, a sleeping Jasper has an arm across her chest, imprisoning her where she is.

"Wake up," she hisses at him, shoving his shoulder.

She's going to have to hide the evidence of last night because she's not prepared to put up with Liam's surreptitious smirking for the rest of the day.

Jasper finally starts showing signs of life. She gives his arm another shove.

"Liam's outside," she whispers urgently. "You have to get up."

Jasper pulls himself onto his feet, while Eleanor throws back the covers and reluctantly launches into action.

"You have to go," she whirls around and grabs his suit and shoes and hustles Jasper towards the balcony. He is naked as the day he was born, but well, obviously a lot different to then.

"Just give me a minute to get decent," she yells back at Liam.

"Now stay there and try not to get photographed by any papps," she threatens, jabbing her finger towards Jasper. "And better still put some pants on," she adds as an afterthought.

She's had a lot of experience in this type of scenario before, and naked men outside her balcony or scaling out of her window are always a sure sign to photographers of where exactly her room is located.

She locks the balcony door and hastily draws the curtains over his face as he glares back at her with knotted eyebrows.

She grabs a wrap and pulls it around herself and then opens the door.

She looks at Liam, who is grinning back at her. Standing beside him is an all too familiar face.

"Hey Lenny," he greets her and leans forward to give her a hug.

"Beck, what are you doing here?" she replies breathlessly.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright. We were worried about you," he says back to her, smoothing her mussed up hair back from her face.

"I'm fine. Really," Eleanor replies, leaning into him. It's sweet how he cares about her.

She supposes she should have expected this but Robbie never breathed a word yesterday. There's no way her newly crowned brother could drop his engagements for several days with no notice to check on his baby sister who's being held hostage on the other side of the world. But he can delegate his best friend to fly over here, and Beck would be only too happy to comply.

As they stand, things with Beck are pretty complicated.

Since Robbie's been back Beck's been around at the Palace a lot. It feels innocent and sweet to have everyone back together again and it reminds her of better times when she and Beck and Robbie would hang out together, laughing and having fun together.

They're not officially together again, and she hasn't slept with him since they broke up last time, but he left his wife for her and its clear he still has feelings for her. She's just not ready to decide yet if she wants to get back together with him.

"You know I'm mad at you over that stunt you pulled last night," Liam interrupts their reunion, standing with his arms crossed. He's trying to look mad, but Eleanor can see he's pleased to see her back here and looking better than yesterday. And the truth is he's feeling a lot better after a good night's sleep and is pleased by the surprise appearance of one of his friend's from home.

Eleanor wraps an arm around her brother. "You know that living in an oppressive hospital regime with no entertainment, insipid food and nurses from the Hitler Youth training school can actually be a life threatening medical complication. You wouldn't want me to die Liam - you'd miss me too much bro."

"Yeah I'm not sure that's a fair assessment of what being in hospital was actually like," Liam replies, shaking his head.

"Anyway I have to go and get briefed on my schedule for today," he announces.

"Are you sure its safe to start official appearances again?" Eleanor asks, concern etching itself on her face.

"They've rescheduled some of my appointments from the past two days and cancelled the ones they think are too high risk. Apparently I'm being flanked by a dozen police everywhere I go today as well," Liam grimaces, thinking its going to be hard to even move amongst the Police presence. But at least he'll be able to actually get out and about which was supposed to be the reason for their visit in the first place.

"I've texted Jasper his instructions for today for him to read once he's up. Robbie and I are both in agreement that you, dear sister, are not to leave the building all day and Jasper can enforce the rules. You can stay in and recuperate. Tomorrow you'll be allowed out into the world again, with extra security. Beck can entertain you today," Liam finishes, turning on his heel towards the elevator.

"What?" Eleanor yells, hands on hips as she eyeballs Liam's retreating form.

"I'm sure you'll have fun," he yells back at her breezily, not bothering to turn around.

"Cheeky bugger," she mutters resentfully. She can't believe she just got out of one whitewashed prison in the form of hospital only to be confined to another one today.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a persistent tapping sound from her balcony window.

She rolls her eyes. Jasper. The scheming bastard, he wants to expose her in front of Beck and ruin any chance they have of being back together again. It would serve him right it she was to give him a firm push off the balcony and then she could watch him hurtling to a nasty death several floors below

"What's that noise?" Beck questions, turning round to look towards the balcony.

Eleanor has to think fast on her feet, "It's ah, hotel maintenance, they said they were going to do some work on the building's exterior. Why don't you just wait there for a minute and I'll throw on some clothes and we can go downstairs and get you something to eat," she says, giving him a push out into the corridor and promptly shutting the door in his face.

Jasper is sure to make trouble with Beck and drive her insane by enforcing her brother's ridiculous rule that she be locked up in the hotel all day like a princess in the tower.

So, she thinks with a self-satisfied smirk, he can stay exactly where he is for now and she will do as she pleases, thank you very much.

She pulls on a dress and sneakers and makes a quick exit from the room.

* * *

Downstairs, Beck and Eleanor have helped themselves to the breakfast buffet and are talking about Beck's eventful, last minute flight.

Not ten minutes have gone by since she left her room when she turns round to find Jasper has silently entered the room and is standing by the entrance to the dining room, his face as impassive as ever.

Eleanor gets up to refill her tea cup and detours via the door.

"How did you do that?" she hisses at Jasper, raising an eyebrow. The balcony door was very clearly locked when she left her room.

"I have my ways," he replies smugly.

Eleanor huffs and turns on her heel to return to her breakfast.

Clearly a leopard never changes his spots because this elusive, devious behavior is all too annoyingly familiar to her and she is going to have to put up with it, once again, for however long it takes the Palace to appoint her a new permanent security detail.

* * *

Twenty minutes later they emerge from breakfast and she and Beck are strolling along the hallway, talking when Jasper suddenly disappears.

Shortly after, he reappears outside the window a few feet down from where they are.

Eleanor catches a quick glimpse of Jasper place his hands around a dark haired man who falls to the ground. Jasper releases him quickly, grabs his bag and then steps away from his victim. Beck's busy admiring the picture on the other wall so he misses this entirely.

Eleanor moves to the glass door nearby, pushes it open and makes straight for Jasper.

"Did I just see you steal his bag?" Eleanor demands.

"Maybe. He's a papp and he was taking unsolicited photos," Jasper replies.

Eleanor turns around and regards the man sprawled on the ground, still and silent.

"What did you do to him? Did you kill him," she hisses angrily, hands on hips.

"Maybe," Jasper replies, smirking.

Actually he just closed off his windpipe for 30 seconds to black him out, and he should revive by himself in five to ten minutes. But he does like the idea of killing a man with his bare hands just for taking unsolicited photos. It gives off the right impression. Especially to that bastard Beck.

At that precise moment Beck pops his head around the door and strolls outside. "Woah, what happened here?"

Both Eleanor and Jasper ignore his question.

"You can't just go around doing that," Eleanor huffs at Jasper. "Sooner or later your propensity to dispose of Olympic swimmers and control room operators and unsuspecting paparazzi is going to cause a diplomatic incident," she lectures.

"Now I'll have to call an ambulance and pretend we know nothing about how this happened," she finishes, tight lipped, turning away to pick up her phone, as Beck bends over the man to check his pulse.


	11. Chapter 11

_Yeah reviewers - why is Eleanor into Beck anyway? And why am I messing with your hearts like this? Am I evil? (Actually I kind of like Beck... but he's not as devious as Jasper however)_

* * *

"Was it really necessary to deck that photographer?," Eleanor asks testily, falling back to speak with Jasper.

The ambulance has now arrived and Beck is helping lift the photographer into the vehicle.

"Essential," Jasper replies with a single word.

He crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows back at her. "Perhaps if you hadn't decided to lock me outside your room while swanning off to the dining room with Lord Stupid Name the Second out of the Eton Crew, the photographer wouldn't have close ups of my bare ass on his camera and then I wouldn't have had to take matters into my own hands."

Eleanor's mouth opens and then shuts again quickly. She doesn't need another media scandal right now and in hindsight locking Jasper on her balcony wasn't her smartest decision, but his knocking on the door to try to get Beck's attention had caused her to blow a fuse.

She was never one to admit defeat or culpability with grace however so she changes tack.

"Wait, so you – who spent a good six months blackmail fucking me and threatening to release a sex tape – are offended by the idea of someone taking photos of your bits and selling them to the newspapers?," Eleanor says slowly, narrowing her eyes at him.

"It's not the same," Jasper replies, shaking his head.

"You liked the sex," he smirks in a way that Eleanor finds totally infuriating. "I think we both know that last night confirmed that you miss the sex." he adds cockily.

Eleanor whirls around to face him, looking intensely irritated. "I'm not sure whether I miss the sex more or less than you miss prison. I guess we could establish that if you went back to prison for conspiracy to commit burglary," she replies sharply.

The paramedics have moved inside the ambulance now and Beck has stepped off to the side, guiding the vehicle carefully around the crowd that has gathered around the vehicle.

Jasper steps behind her and his body hugs into hers closely, his hand around her waist. "More," he says confidently. "Definitely more" he repeats.

"And the other thing last night confirmed was that you belong to me," he says in a low voice into her ear. His touch and his voice are all too reminiscent of last night and Eleanor's frozen to the spot.

There's a crowd of people just a few metres away and some of them have already noticed who she is. Jasper has never before touched her in public in a way that indicates he's anything more than her bodyguard, but the return of Beck seems to be making him unusually territorial.

She's torn between wanting to stay in his embrace and knowing that it will inevitably cause a scene either with Beck or when someone captures a photo of them which gets out on twitter or in the newspapers, and they've already had one close call today.

"Take your hands off me," she instructs him in a carefully controlled voice. A second later he reluctantly releases her and she steps away from him without a backward look and makes for Beck's side.

* * *

After the ambulance disappears, Beck discovers the Hotel has a pool. They head for the top floor where a kidney shaped pool sparkles in the sunshine. Jasper follows behind with a sour look on his face.

Beck occupies himself with swimming lengths, while Eleanor lounges about in the shallows.

Standing in the corner of the top floor, Jasper's black suit is stiflingly hot, and he tugs at his collar to loosen it a little.

Eleanor's wearing next to nothing in the way of a bikini, and seeing so much of her skin on display brings back fresh memories of last night. He thinks of the way her skin felt soft to his touch, her hair spilled like silk over his face and how her body opened to him, how they fitted together so perfectly. He wants her so bad, she's like an addiction for him.

After a while Beck swims over to Eleanor. Jasper narrows his eyes as he watches them together. Beck's circling around Eleanor, touching her hair and putting his arms around her. Jasper occupies his time thinking about how he'd like to go over there, push that smug bastard's head under water and hold him there until he stops struggling.

It's a pleasant day dream but he knows that unfortunately he won't be able to enjoy the satisfaction of killing Beck with his own two hands. But one thing he is sure of is that before he leaves Sydney, Eleanor is going to be his once more.


	12. Chapter 12

_Nother chapter now. Glad you are enjoying it - thank you for the reviews_

Once they leave the pool Eleanor checks herself into the spa in the basement and spends an hour having a back massage, while Beck goes to the gym.

After lunch they watch some shitty television in her room for a while, before she gets fed up of it and spends an hour on her phone.

It's about this time that she starts getting restless and heads downstairs to wander the halls, while Beck strolls beside her and Jasper follows after.

They get back to where they were this morning where Jasper manhandled the unsuspecting photographer and Eleanor carefully tries the door to the outside and finds it's still unlocked. She manages to get it open before Beck comes over and shuts it firmly.

"You know you can't go outside today Lenny," he says, putting an arm around her. "Come on, let's go get some afternoon tea."

They go down to the restaurant and have boring tea and boring cake and Eleanor is still bored.

At 3.30pm Beck bails on her and announces he's going to bed. Granted he came off a 20 hour flight this morning and he's still adjusting to the new time zone, but he's not helping here.

Eleanor goes back to her room and throws herself on her bed, scowling. She's exhausted all her possible entertainment options here.

She opens her phone and types out a tweet. "Day three being held hostage. All escape routes blocked. Considering who to eat first."

A minute later the post appears on her twitter feed. "Loving Sydney. Weather so great!"

She tosses her phone on the floor. Rachel's still an interfering bitch, even on the other side of the world. And what time is it over there? Does that woman never sleep?

Jasper is outside her door, still acting as her official jailer. She lies there staring at the ceiling and eventually her phone rings.

"Len, they've finalised our schedule for tomorrow," Liam says, not bothering to greet her. "We're leaving tonight for Canberra at 8.45. We have to leave the hotel at 7.30 to be at the airport at 8.15. I'll tell Jasper, can you tell Emily and make sure you're ready to go. Got that?" he questions.

"Yes," she replies.

"Ok gotta go now," Liam hangs up the phone.

Great, Eleanor thinks to herself. The hostage drama had quite literally shot their schedule of official engagements to pieces. They were supposed to have a free day yesterday and be in Canberra today before visiting Adelaide tomorrow.

She's been in Sydney for a total of four days now and she hasn't had a chance to do any of the things she wanted to do. Before they'd left England she'd planned out how she would spend her spare day in Sydney – go to the beach, do a little shopping, visit the harbour and the opera house. Now because she spent her first two days on official duties, two days being held hostage in a club and the hospital and today being holed up here like a criminal she will never get the chance to do any of that.

And now they're heading for Canberra on the final day of her tour. Where they'll be spending the day at the national war memorial and Parliament – the very definition of both immensely dull and incredibly depressing.

Eleanor pulls herself upright and dials her lady in waiting Emily to tell her when she needs to be at the airport this evening. She checked out of hospital this morning but is across the other side of town, with her aunt who insisted she stay with her today after the hostage drama.

When she gets off the phone Jasper pushes the door open and enters unannounced.

"The police want to interview you at 5.30 tonight about the siege," he tells her.

"Very well then," Eleanor replies. The way things are going here that will be the highlight of her day. "Did you inform them I'm being forcibly detained under house arrest so they will need to come to me?"

Jasper rolls his eyes. The Princess never misses an opportunity for dramatics.

"I believe they know that. Perhaps if you're lucky they'll bring you cigarettes so you can trade them for protection," he replies back snarkily.

"As you're well aware I have ample protection," she replies back crossly. So ample that she can't go anywhere or do anything apparently. "However the cigarettes could come in handy in exchange for drugs."

Jasper smirks briefly.

Eleanor rolls herself off the bed and dusts off her dress with a graceful gesture. "I think I may head downstairs now," she announces, and slinks catlike towards the door.

Downstairs, Eleanor wanders about like a lost soul, strolling along the hallway and reading the magazines in the lobby. Every couple of minutes she lets out a sigh which is rich with frustration.

After a while of this, she goes back to the restaurant and orders herself some tea, while Jasper stands silently outside the restaurant door.

Jasper thinks he finally has the opportunity he's been waiting for and ducks off to the bathroom, because even bodyguards have to use the toilet occasionally.

Eleanor turns her head and catches a glimpse of Jasper leaving his position and trails out to the exit. She checks both ways and no, there is definitely no one on guard now.

She heads over to the lobby area and looks out the glass doors. Outside she can see the sun is shining, there is a block of shops across the road and just beyond that the golden sands of the beach look inviting.

That's all it takes to convince her to make a bid for freedom. She steps out the door, smiles graciously at the security guards on the entry and waits at the lights for a few seconds until they turn green. Then she's across the road in a flash and following the path which leads to the beach.

She can taste the salt in the air, the wind in is her hair and the sunshine is on her skin and it feels intoxicating.

She's half way down to the beach when he catches up with her.

He's as silent as ever because the first time she releases her dash for freedom is about to be curtailed is when she feels his hand clamp down on her arm, vice like and he hauls her around.

"Not so fast, Princess."

He doesn't say another word to her as he half drags and half marches her back down the path and across the road. At first she struggles to get free and whines that he's holding her too tight but this produces no reaction in him whatsoever and his grip doesn't loosen, so eventually she gives up.

Inside the hotel he pulls her by the wrist across the lobby and into the elevator, his jaw tight with anger.

When they get back to her room, he finally spins her around and releases her.

He turns to face her, ready for a showdown.

"What the hell was that?" he demands.


	13. Chapter 13

"What the hell was that?" Jasper demands angrily.

He takes a step towards her.

Eleanor steps backwards. She can see the way his jaw tightens and a bead of sweat on his brow has formed on his brow. He normally manages to keep his cool, but right now he looks dangerously pissed off. At her.

"You can't do that Eleanor," he says, with emphasis. "Do you even realise how dangerous is it for you to be out alone?" Jasper takes another step towards her, and stares down at her intimidatingly.

Eleanor takes another step back and swallows. Jasper's so close she can feel the heat from his body radiating off hers. Now she's pressed up uncomfortably against the wall.

He clamps his hand on her arm.

"Let go of my arm, Jasper," Eleanor protests. His fingers are digging into her flesh.

He ignores her and she shifts against the wall. "I just wanted to get out of this place, ok," she lashes out defensively.

Eleanor doesn't want to be here anymore. She doesn't want to be left alone with her thoughts because then she will think about what it felt like to be in that club and shots ringing out in the night and it makes her feel sick. She doesn't want to think about James or anyone else who was there with her. She only wanted to get away.

He can feel the way her pulse is racing, and her rise and fall of her chest against his heart as she struggles for breath.

She doesn't get it and he feels like he's banging his head against a wall.

"Well I can imagine that spending all day swimming in a rooftop pool, being massaged and lying around watching TV must be literal hell for you princess," Jasper's voice is rich with sarcasm and suppressed anger that she would put herself so flagrantly at risk.

"But let me spell this out for you so it's clear," he continues, eyeballing her from his position a few inches from her face. "Despite your narrowly getting out of that nightclub alive, I'm pretty sure that ISIS and Al Qaeda still have your name on their wanted list, Princess. It's a feature of these attacks that they like to attack multiple targets to create as much fear as possible – think of the London bombings, Paris. New York. Multiple locations, not one attack but several."

"You might think you're safe Eleanor, but you're far from it," Jasper eyebrows knot together, and he rests his hand on the wall above her.

This is not something he wanted to have to tell her because he knows that for her own piece of mind she needs to believe that she is safe. But the truth is she's not and he can't allow her to delude herself into thinking she can wander around unprotected.

Eleanor visibly blanches at his words. The idea that this is not over and she will be a target for the rest of her life is terrifying.

Her breath catches in her throat, "I sorry. I just-," she starts.

"Whatever it was you wanted to do, don't," Jasper interrupts, angrily. "You can't put yourself at risk like that," he snaps. "Is that understood?"

Jasper's hurt her so many times before and yet his words still manage to cut her again.

She leans back and shoves him away from her. "I understand that. But when we get back to England I'm requesting a new security detail," she says, moving to the window and folding her hands over her chest defensively.

"Someone who's capable of being professional. Someone who can actually be around my friends and show a little respect," she states.

His temper flares again. "By friends I presume you mean Lord Beckwith, who I'm assuming is soon to be more than friends with you again."

She hasn't decided what she wants to be with Beck but every time she puts her trust in Jasper he ends up managing to crush her.

She decided to trust him once and he betrayed her with her mother. Then she found out he came to the palace to steal from her.

When he found out who her father's killer was and helped her bring him to justice, she was almost ready to trust him again.

She remembers reaching for his hand in the stadium. She remembers his arm around her protecting her from the papparazzi, guiding her to the car. And she remembers waking up the next morning at the Palace to hear that he'd left last night without a word of goodbye. Even though she's asked him to leave herself, after everything that happened between them the day before, that felt like the worst betrayal of all.

Eleanor doesn't turn away from the window to look at him but keeps her eyes fixed on the street below. "Whatever Beck is or isn't to me and whatever we get up to is none of your business bodyguard," she replies coolly, and her tone incenses him.

Jasper strides over to where she is, catches her arm and whirls her around to face him.

"You don't love him, and he doesn't love you!" the words explode from him in an enraged shout so loud it startles them both.

The room falls silent for a moment.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Eleanor asks tightly.

"Don't tell me you don't know, you must know!," he almost spits it out, in his frustration.

"What don't I know?," Eleanor repeats, her eyebrows knotting together. "What do you mean?"

Jasper runs a hand through his hair, paces a few steps away from her, then abruptly turns.

"What I mean Eleanor is that I'm so fucking in love with you that I can't think straight during the day if you're not there, that I can't sleep at night without you beside me, that I can't go a single goddamn moment without missing you and wanting you every second of every day," he turns and looks at her and his face is anguished and his voice is full of need.

"Do you know that it took me two seconds to decide to get on a plane from Las Vegas to fly to the other side of the world because I thought you were in danger?"

Eleanor stares at him in shock, eyes wide and her heart beats an unsteady rhythm.

A lot of things have gone down between the two of them, but neither of them has ever spoke of love before.

Jasper is a born con artist and she never knows with him whether what he says can be trusted. Is he actually in love with her or is he just jealous of Beck or trying it on with her to get her into bed again?

If she lets him in now is this just another opportunity for her to serve her heart up to him only to watch as he betrays her and rips it into a thousand pieces once again?

Eleanor steps back from him, still staring at him. She should look away from him but she can't because there's something compelling about Jasper's eyes. She wants to trust him, she really does. But she's afraid.

Just then the phone starts to ring, cutting through the heavy silence of the room.

Eleanor turns towards it, and fumbles with the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Your Highness this is hotel security. There's a girl outside the front door here who says she was one of the hostages in the club with you and she wants to speak with you. She says its important."

Eleanor frowns. She's not expecting a visitor and inside the club they were never allowed to speak so she doesn't actually know the other hostages, although they will recognise her.

"I'll come down now," she replies, putting down the phone.

Eleanor turns to Jasper, still reeling from the scene that has just passed.

She doesn't know what to say or do to him, and she doesn't know whether she's brave enough to trust him yet.

"I have to go downstairs," is all she says, turning towards the door.


	14. Chapter 14

_Thanks for your reviews Luna, Satore and Guests. Luna thanks for sharing your views from a British perspective and Guest I really appreciate your comments about how you're finding the story._

 _Anyway another chapter below and things are about to get kind of crazy (or unexpected anyway!) a little further down the track._

In the lobby the security guard comes to meet her.

He points to a young girl of around 18 standing outside the front entrance. "This is the young lady who says she was with you in the siege and wants to talk to you."

He looks at the girl then back at Eleanor doubtfully. It could easily be a line from some star struck teenager trying it on to meet Royalty but on the other hand it could just be true.

Eleanor looks at her through the glass door.

She spent over 24 hours sitting it that godawful, sweaty room crammed full of terrified people. She thinks she's probably memorised every one of the faces from there.

"She's telling the truth," Eleanor replies. "Can you let her inside please?"

It takes a moment while the girl is patted down by security and is then allowed inside.

"Hello," Eleanor offers her a smile. "Please come and sit down," Eleanor gestures towards a couch placed several feet away from the door.

The girl looks young and daunted to meet the Princess.

"Jasper could you give us a minute please?" Eleanor requests.

He nods and steps away from them and moves to station himself by the door.

Eleanor notes his strategic position manning the exit. The beach incident is still fresh in his mind then, clearly.

"This is yours," the girl offers, holding a folded piece of paper out in her hand. "I found it on the floor of the club. I couldn't get it too you then because it was too dangerous. You know that we weren't allowed to talk."

"Yes I understand," Eleanor nods. Anyone who spoke would be threatened with a gun against their head, the same as she was when she got up to go to James.

"I read it because I didn't know what it was. I'm sorry. Anyway I just wanted to give it back now because I thought it might be important, that it might mean something to you," the girl offers shyly, passing it over to Eleanor.

Eleanor looks up and in the front entrance of the lobby she sees a middle aged Police Officer standing to the side of the door beside Jasper watching her.

This must be Policeman who wanted to interview her here for his 5.30 appointment.

Eleanor doesn't open the note which she holds in her hand. "Thank you so much for coming. I hope you're doing ok now?"

The girl looks down but her voice is tight with emotion. "It was awful but I got out of it alive along with my boyfriend. We were some of the lucky ones."

"We were lucky. All three of us," on an impulse Eleanor takes the girl's hand and gives it a quick squeeze.

The girl leans forward towards Eleanor. "You know I thought you were really brave in there. The way you tried to help that man they shot," she confesses.

Eleanor stares back at her and blinks twice, trying to fight the tears that are threatening to pool in her eyes.

She never thought of herself as brave. She only remembered that she had failed James.

"He was my bodyguard. He died while he was protecting me," is all she says in reply.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't know that," the girl replies. Her face is searching Eleanor's sympathetically.

Eleanor nods and stands up abruptly, turning her face to brush away her tears. "Thank you for coming. Good luck for the future."

The girl turns to go and Eleanor shoves the note in her pocket.

Jasper brings the Police officer over. "This is Detective Inspector Jones."

"Hello," Eleanor leans forward and shakes his hand. "Hello Your Highness," he replies back.

"Call me Eleanor," she replies back.

He nods in reply. "Thank you."

"I booked the meeting room over there," Jasper says, pointing to the room opposite the reception area.

Jasper turns towards the meeting room while Eleanor and the Detective follow behind.

Jasper positions himself outside the door of the room, leaving it slightly ajar so he can hear the conversation inside.

The Policeman stands in front of the table. Eleanor releases he's waiting for her to tell him to sit and collects herself.

She sits down behind the table. "Take a seat Inspector."

"Thank you," he sits. "Please give me a couple of minutes to get my case notes and papers."

Eleanor sits silently across the table as he starts unpacking and ordering his papers on the table in front of her.

It is only now that she has an opportunity to take out the note from her pocket, and unfold it. She smooths out the creases and lays it flat in front of her and reads:

 _Princess_

 _I'm so goddamn sorry for every thing I've done and every way I've hurt you_

 _To me you're perfect, and beautiful and there's nothing I would change about you_

 _You're my every thing. I need you to know that I love you so much even if I've never said it to you_

 _Please stay strong, I promised to protect you always and I will_

 _J_

She recognises Jasper's handwriting but none of this makes sense to her. How did the note get onto the floor of the club? Why did she never get it?

She's still caught up in her thoughts when the Policeman addresses her.

"Are you ready to begin now?" he asks politely. "I will record this interview for our investigation," he adds, leaning forward to switch on the microphone in front of him.

Eleanor frowns, and carefully folds the note and puts it back in her pocket.

"Yes."


	15. Chapter 15

_Keep your theories coming about the note. Jasper moves in mysterious ways and no one has actually guessed correctly how it got to be there yet. Anyway all will soon be revealed. But in the meantime things are getting messy and now everyones getting involved …Oh no!_

* * *

Liam is sitting in the reception area of a war veterans home waiting to be given the all clear by the police to return to his car when he gets a call.

It's his brother and he tells him to take the call on his tablet via skype.

When he switches on the screen he sees his brother Robbie lounging on a couch in a grey t shirt, sweatpants and smoking jacket. Beside him, his mother is wrapped in a silk dressing down and Rachel is standing behind them, fully dressed, and looking impossibly proper for someone who spends their spare time disciplining overweight men with an addiction to wearing women's underwear. And nothing else.

"What's this?" Liam questions.

"Family conference, old sport," Robbie replies, removing the pipe from his mouth.

Liam rolls his eyes. Robbie has an easy way about him and a gift for making himself popular with everyone he meets, for making himself fit in with any crowd. He's willing to bet that Robbie's recently been spending time at the House of Lords because the only time he gets out his pipe is when he's getting in character to smooze with the over 60, rich toffs around there. " _It's an Oxford Don/ Hugh Hefner playboy crossover accessory that House of Lords types just love_ ," Liam recalls him explaining the presence of the pipe. The smoking jacket and 'Old sport' references are probably there for the same reason.

"Unfortunately we can't get hold of Eleanor," the Queen announces. "But we need to start formulating our response as soon as possible so we will proceed without her for now."

"I've called Rachel here because we are now dealing with our first PR crisis of Robert's reign, courtesy of your sister," the Queen continues.

Rachel steps forward brandishing a copy of this morning's copy of _The Sun_.

Liam leans forward, "Common Ass meets Royal Beaver," the headline reads. The newspaper has tastefully illustrated their story with a photo of Eleanor during the infamous pantlyless flashing incident with the offending area blurred. Beside the image of the Princess is a photo showing a rear view of a toned back and firm buttocks on the balcony of a swanky Sydney hotel.

Liam peers at the cover which is poorly in focus on his tablet. There's something disturbingly familiar about the back of his head. "Wait is that Jasper?"

"Quite," Rachel confirms. "Or more precisely his ass. But the paper has helpfully also provided a mugshot of his face on the next page so the public will be able to clearly identify the perpetrator."

Despite the enthusiastic vigour Jasper used this morning to confiscate the photos of himself on the Princesses balcony, another photographer has clearly managed to secretly photograph the same scene and retain his pictures.

"Unfortunately there's plenty more where this came from," Rachel adds, dumping two more newspapers on the table in front of her with the lead story titles, "Princess done down under," and "Cheeky!"

The Queen bends down and picks one of the newspapers and reads.

"After a quiet few months Princess Eleanor has once again resumed her quest to emblazon her bedpost with a royal flush of notches. Fresh from the Sydney hostage crisis, the tireless Princess was spotted playing host to a strapping and very naked male visitor who graced her apartment balcony in the wee hours of the morning. Given the Princesses' penchant for sordid liaisons it's clear that Eleanor has been entertaining herself Down Under by spending her time down under the sheets and far from alone. The owner of the toned set of buttocks caught on camera outside her room has been confirmed as Jasper Frost, 28, former security detail to Prince Liam and before that Princess Eleanor herself."

She throws down the newspaper. "I think you get the picture."

"This is poor form," Robert announces, looking up from reading over another article. "This one has the spelling of orgy with an ie instead of a y and in this photo you can clearly see a glimpse of his gentleman's area and the paper hasn't even attempted to zoom in and enlarge it like usual. Journalistic standards are slipping," he adds, shaking his head and placing his long legs on the table.

He takes another puff from his pipe. "Anyway will someone please tell me who the fuck this guy is and whether I can expect his ass to be regularly gracing the front page of my newspaper in the future?," he adds, questioning.

"He's the one who got Lenny out of the club," Liam explains. "He was her security detail for around six months and then he was mine until just before you came back. He's a good guy, providing you don't annoy him in which case he'll most likely kill you. Very slowly and probably very painfully," Liam adds. He doesn't sound like he's kidding.

"Sounds like a stand up guy," Robert replies, doubtfully. "What does Len think of him?"

"Unfortunately or fortunately this is not just your run of the mill sexcapade Eleanor typically involves herself in," the Queen joins the conversation at this point. "I'm pretty sure that Eleanor's actually in love with him, whether or not she's ready to recognise it yet," she announces.

"And I've seen the way Jasper Frost looks at her and I'm confident the feeling is returned," she adds.

Liam nods in agreement, rolling his eyes. "He's got it even worse than she does. As soon as he heard she was in that club he was over here like a shot. And then there was the fact that he spent all his savings following her around the world to keep her safe when Cyrus removed her security detail."

Robbie interrupts, "But Eleanor and Beck have a thing going on-," he starts.

Liam shakes his head. "You haven't seen her with Jasper. They fight, they drive each other crazy but its pretty obvious they're mad about each other too."

"So, considering that it's distinctly likely that at some stage of proceedings the two of them will come to realise the way they feel about each other and Jasper could eventually end up as a member of our illustrious family, we'll have to play a long game here and ensure our strategy preserves both their reputations," the Queen states.

"What are you suggesting mother?" Liam asks, sounding curious.

"Well firstly if you want the public to like him, we have to get them to see him the way Eleanor sees him," she starts.

"What – naked?" Robert smirks.

Liam joins in, "Yeah, I don't think that idea's doing anything for me. Is it working for you Robbie?"

Robbie glances down at Jasper's photo in the newspaper and looks back up grinning. "Not doing it for me either. Maybe if it was in a threesome without my sister in it we might be getting somewhere-," he replies, tilting his head to consider the idea.

"Shut up both of you," Queen Helena snaps. "Or do I have to resort to murder here just to restore some order?," she questions.

"Regicide is still a crime, mother," Robert proclaims with dignity. "And I've already had more than my fair share of premature death."

"When I said we needed the public to see Jasper as Eleanor does I didn't mean naked," Helena huffs. "I meant as a hero," she says, flourishing her arm gracefully. "As the man who risked his life to rescue a Princess from the siege."

"So we present this gun toting American as her knight in shining armour," Rachel sounds enthusiastic.

"Exactly," the Queen nods.

"Jasper's not American," Liam argues, from far offshore. "His accent's all wrong. My American accent was far superior to his and I wasn't even trying."

"What we're dealing with here is a lapse in judgement. An indiscretion," Helena continues on her mission to repair the PR mayhem her daughter has once again created. "And what has the power to redeem any indiscretion?" she asks.

"Well, if you are Cyrus throwing large wads of cash in the air is quite effective as a way to distract people's attention," Liam replies thoughtfully.

"True love," the Queen replies regally, ignoring Liam's contribution. "If the people think that the Princess and the man who rescued her in the siege have fallen in love then this is not a tawdry hookup. It becomes a fairytale romance - pure and noble," she finishes, smiling graciously.

"Media storm averted," Rachel affirms.

Robert sits back in his chair and nods silently. He's only been on the throne for a few weeks and strategically he doesn't need a PR crisis so soon after his coronation. But what matters most to him is Eleanor. If his sister is actually in love with this guy, then he could get on board with this option.

"Rachel, please prepare two versions of a media statement," Helena instructs. "One version with not much in the way of comment. You should have one on file from that time she was caught drunk and naked on the beach with that Swedish formula one driver, or from the incident with Lord Cole. And please emphasise the Princess was heavily sedated at the time and has been recovering from a traumatic experience. And another version where they fell in love when Jasper was assigned to her, when he heard she was in danger he flew over immediately, he carried her out in his arms etc etc. I'm sure you'll be able to work some magic."

Helena looks back at Liam on the screen in front of them. "Liam I need you to track down Eleanor when you get back to the hotel so we can confirm which version we work with. Please try to persuade her the best course of action is for her and Jasper to tell the world how they really feel about each other."

Helena sits back and smiles to herself. Every hour of every waking day she spends her time trying to present the public image of the monarchy in the best possible light. But she is also a mother and she wants Eleanor to have a chance she never had - a chance to choose love.


	16. Chapter 16

_New chapter below. Thank you for the reviews – the Henstridge family at home are not always the best behaved when left to their own devices but they are quite amusing_

* * *

"Please state your full name," the Police Officer starts.

"Eleanor Victoria Alice Isabelle Henstridge," Eleanor replies, grimacing. Like all Royal children, the number of first names she is burdened with is quite ridiculous. Though she supposes she should be grateful that one of them isn't Marmeduke which is one of many that Liam is saddled with, in memory of an obscure great uncle, more dead than alive even while still breathing.

"Thank you. You were present at Vulcan on the night of 7 March. Is that correct?"

Eleanor nods.

"Please state your reply for the record," the Police Officer instructs her.

"Yes."

"Now, would you tell me, in your own words, what you recall from the time you entered Vulcan until the time you left the club on 9 March."

It takes Eleanor 15 minutes to go through the things she remembers from her time inside the club. Her account is swift and she doesn't dwell on detail or on her feelings. She does a credible job of keeping it together and as she speaks the Police Officer opposite makes notes and listens attentively without interruption.

"Thank you. Now I'm going to show you some images."

He places a photograph on the table. It's a young man in his 20s who looks Chinese.

She recognises him from the club.

"Do you recognise this gentleman?" The Policeman questions.

"Yes. He was inside Vulcan."

"Do you recall an incident he was involved in inside the club?"

Eleanor wracks her brains. She doesn't remember the man standing out in any way or anything occurring which drew attention to him.

"No."

The Police Officer places a further three photos on the table. He points to them one by one.

The Princess correctly identities that they were all inside the club but doesn't recall anything else about them.

The officer nods at her account. He wasn't expecting any other response from her but he has a process to follow here. The four photos he has placed in front of her were the hostage victims who were shot by the one remaining conscious terrorist as the building was stormed by Police while the Princess was out cold in a separate room.

He places a fifth photo on the table and Eleanor blanches. She remembers everything about this girl all too clearly.

Before her world spun out of control in the space of a few seconds, this girl had asked her to take a selfie with her and Eleanor had happily complied. If the police were to check her phone there would be an image of the two of them - strangers who look like friends, smiling, frozen in time together.

"Would you mind telling me what you remember about this young lady?" the Police Officer requests, politely.

"She asked to take a photo with me not long after I arrived there, and I said yes. When the gunmen first took over she was half way across the room from me."

"I think she was shot when they opened fire. There were a lot of gunshots then and the first time I remember seeing her she was on the floor with blood all around her."

Eleanor looks down, "She didn't die straight away, because she was moving and someone beside her was trying to bandage her wound which was in her stomach and she made sounds like she was in pain for quite a few hours. I think she died later that night. It must be awful for her family right now."

He's done this far too many times not to recognise the way her breath hitches in her throat, her hands start to tremble and her voice starts to wobble and know what's coming next.

"Thank you Eleanor," the Policeman replies, putting down his pen for a moment. It's the first time he's actually used her name even though she told him he could at the beginning.

"Every piece of evidence you provide is important for the trial which will bring these criminals to justice. Remember that," his voice is grave.

The photo is taken away and he places another image in front of her. "And this man – could you please tell me what you recall about what happened to him?"

Eleanor recognises him as one of the undercover police officers. The terrorists must have known who they were and targeted them to take them out right from the start.

He looks to be in his 30s and probably has a wife and children. The only reason he was there at all was because of a snap decision on her part about how she wanted to spend the evening. The guilt weighs heavily on her.

She starts to speak and he pretends he doesn't notice the way the tears are pooling in her eyes. Soon enough it will be too obvious to ignore.

One photo replaces another until she has seen 10 photos in total. She relives and remembers every moment and every detail – the gunshots, the screams of terror, the cries of pain from the victims, the blood pooling on the ground, and the slow, agonising deaths.

By now Eleanor has tears streaming down her face and her voice shakes every time she speaks. But she is determined to keep going and to tell him what she can remember. She owes it to the people who never came out of the club. " _We were the lucky ones_ ," she remembers saying less than an hour ago as she squeezed the hand of the only hostage she did manage to speak to.

The Princess is the seventh hostage Inspector Jones has interviewed today and her reaction is nothing new. This process is gruelling for them and once he starts laying the photos down, one after the other, sooner or later they all break. Every single one of them.

"Thank you Eleanor. You're doing very well," he says when she finishes answering his last question.

He glances at his watch. 6.14pm.

Under normal circumstances he would stop the interview at this point and give her 15 minutes to collect herself. But the current circumstances are anything but normal. He and the rest of his team are tasked with completing interviews with over 100 hostages by tomorrow, while the details of the siege are still fresh in their minds.

This evening he still has to interview another 3 hostages, and with the way things have been going today he's not going to be finished until after 10pm tonight. He leans down and picks up the box of tissues he carries in his suitcase, places it in front of her then presses on.

The eleventh image he puts in front of her is James.

"This was your bodyguard, is that correct?"

"Yes," she replies, hushed. "James Hill. He was very good at his job and a dear friend to me. When he was shot he was doing his job and protecting me," she leans forward and takes a tissue and blots her tears.

"Can you tell me what you remember of how he was killed?"

"He was shot when the terrorists took control of the building. I didn't see which of them shot him. He was quite conscious at first but you could hear –" Eleanor pauses as her voice trembles and her hands fall into her lap and she twists the tissue into a tight ball, then continues, "you could hear he was suffering. I tried to go to him but they wouldn't let me and they pulled us apart. James died the next day, I couldn't be sure exactly when as he was unconscious by then."

"It was a dreadful end for someone who was so kind and thoughtful," Eleanor finishes, as her hand covers her mouth and she chokes down a sob.

The Police Officer nods, but says nothing and writes down her words.

He knows that what he has to do next is going to make things worse not better but it has to be done.

He leans down and picks up another photo and lays it down in front of her, then switches off the microphone.

"Now I'm going to need your account of what happened when you were in the cloakroom with this man," he says pointing to the picture in front of her.

"My colleague spoke yesterday with Mr Frost to get his version of what he saw when he entered the room after you were unconscious after the gas was piped into the building, but I also need your recollection."

The Princess is staring at him as if she's seen a ghost. "But Jasper wasn't there then, he didn't get there until I arrived at the hospital," she contradicts him.

The Police Officer glances down at his papers to check the name is correct. "Jasper Frost," he repeats the name in front of him. "Yes he joined our special tactics unit and took part in the operation. Prince Liam oked this. Mr Frost was the one who carried you out of the club."

The Princess falls silent and he can't read her expression.

"To be clear this part of our conversation is off the record so I've switched my microphone off. The King has specifically asked that the details of what happened inside that room not be released to the media or covered at trial."

"However this organisation operates as a network. I have a hundred accounts of what happened inside the club but we have only your account of what happened inside the cloakroom. Our intelligence force cooperates with our international allies – Britain, the US, Europe and others and we need to understand the motivation and intentions of this group to help prevent future attacks. Every detail is important to form a complete picture of events."

He stops talking at this point because its perfectly apparent she's not taking anything of what he's saying in.

"Eleanor?" he asks.

It takes a few seconds for her to comprehend he's speaking to her. "Sorry, I – I wasn't concentrating. What was it you were saying?"

The Police Officer starts to repeat himself while Eleanor this time actually watches his face as he is speaking. But underneath the table her hand reaches for her pocket and carefully extracts a crumpled paper note. She steals a glance at the note. Her gaze focuses on one word – _love_ – and her heart contracts painfully.


	17. Chapter 17

_Thanks for all your reviews. Yeah I'm kinda mean to keep your little hearts racing in suspense. Well there's sort of some Jaspenor here..._

Eleanor takes a breath and tries to focus herself.

"I went to the bathroom and he escorted me," Eleanor begins.

The words come out sounding so wrong – so genteel, as if he was a gentleman who was doing her a favour, when nothing could be further from the truth.

She frowns and starts again. "When we were in there if you wanted to use the toilet you had to put up your hand and one of terrorists would stand behind you with a gun pointed at you when you walked across the room."

The Police Officer nods, but doesn't interrupt her. He has taken out a separate notebook and has started making notes.

He's listening carefully but he's not sure what's going to happen to this information when he gives it to his boss.

Of course he understands perfectly why the King would insist that he doesn't want the attempted rape of the Princess to be mentioned at trial or to the press. From what he's been told the Princess doesn't remember much of the incident at all, but the defence will use her reputation for promiscuity to try tear apart her evidence and undermine the credibility of the prosecution.

And somehow they'll have to hush up the reason why the bodyguard shot the fifth terrorist and turn it into self defense. He's never had to deal with these sort of sensitive international relations issues before on a case, and in his opinion its already making their investigation unnecessarily complicated. And its probably only going to get worse as the investigation progresses.

"When I started to go back to where I had been sitting after I used the bathroom he pushed me into the cloakroom and it was dark there," Eleanor continues.

She shuts her eyes for a moment, and she is back there. Now the room feels cold as ice and she shivers.

"He turned the light and then he asked me if I was looking forward to death," she looks up from her lap and her face is pale and her eyes look huge.

"I asked him if he was and he said yes that he would be in Paradise but that I wouldn't. Then he said that they would shoot me first," she stops and swallows painfully. Her throat is parched.

The Police Officer looks up at her. "This is important for us to know. Please keep going."

"He said that they would record it on camera for everyone to see and that the west was sinful and I was sinful so I should die," she hiccups back a sob now.

"And then he pointed his gun into my chest and called me a whore and then he pushed me down onto the ground and I tried to fight him but he was really heavy and he started ripping my clothes and holding me down," her heart is starting to race and when she speaks the words tumble out too fast and the Inspector has to listen carefully to make sense of what she's saying.

In hospital it was all a confused mess in her drugged out mind when they asked her to tell them what happened, but sitting here today everything comes back to her much more clearly. And she feels the exact same terror she felt yesterday morning sitting here this afternoon.

"Do you remember anything else of what happened?"

It's hard to even hear what the Police Officer is saying because her heart has suddenly started beating so fast that all she can hear is the sound of it knocking against her rib cage, drowning out everything else.

He repeats his question and Eleanor shakes her head.

"You don't remember the Police storming the building or hearing gunshots?"

He can see the way her breath is coming in quick, shallow gasps and he knows he's going to have to wrap this up soon.

She shakes her head again.

"You don't recall the terrorist saying anything about other locations? Other place names?" the police officer questions.

Eleanor shakes her head in quick denial.

"He didn't mention any other people's names?"

Eleanor shakes her head again.

She swipes her hand across her face to wipe away the tears that are running down her face and stares back at him, wide eyed.

He takes in the way her hand trembles on the table in front of him and the fact that she has now stopped talking altogether. If he was to hazard a guess at her symptoms he would say she's suffering from delayed shock, and he doubts he is going to get anything further from her here today.

All of the other hostages he's interviewed today have had someone else sitting beside them – a family member or friend to support them, but she is quite alone.

He has a sudden urge to lean over and pat her hand as it sits on the table. He knows she is a Princess but all he can see is a girl, not long out of school, who has seen people shot around her, her friend die, been almost raped and been convinced she was about to be murdered. He has a daughter himself much the same age.

But he knows that although she's a human being she is also a Princess after all, and there is a gulf between them of protocol and distance that he should not cross.

"I don't have any further questions for you. Thank you for your time today, your responses will be very helpful for our investigation," he says instead, formally. "Here is my card, if you remember anything else please call me," he says, placing his card down on the table in front of her.

He collects his briefcase, offers her a quick handshake and stands. "You can expect someone from our victim support service to contact you tomorrow. Would you like me to contact someone here to take you back to your room?"

She shakes her head quickly. She wants to say something to him, to thank him for coming today, but she can't get the words out right now.

Once he shuts the door, Eleanor sits alone at the table. Her heart hasn't stopped racing yet and she feels sweaty yet freezing cold.

None of the things she's just told him will go away. She is still inside her own head where all she can feel is cold steel against her temple and hands tearing at her clothes and the sure knowledge that she is going to die horribly.

She shuts her eyes for a moment and the fear is so overpowering that she feels as if she can't breathe. She pulls herself upright and bolts to the window and pushes it wide open. Her heart is pumping double time and she takes the fresh air in desperate gasps.

A few seconds later Jasper pushes opens the door without knocking to see Eleanor bent over the window.

His first thought is that she is trying to escape again and he rushes for her, grabs hold of her shoulders and turns her around.

Eleanor doesn't have the strength to support herself and she halfway collapses in his arms before he realises what's happening and tightens his grip on her.

She clings to him desperately, because her own legs are too unsteady. Her face is tear stained, her skin is clammy and he can feel her pulse racing in her wrist.

When he takes her face in, his knuckles clench together involuntary, he swallows and he feels the same sudden sense of panic he remembers so well from when he stood watching Eleanor sprawled in a dodgem in the ruined wreckage of her birthday party. The panic that sets in when he looks at Eleanor and recognises that something so beautiful, so 'priceless' as Mr Hill referred to her, has been broken and he's not sure if he can fix it again.

Standing outside with the door slightly ajar he's heard every word of the conversation between the Police Officer and the Princess.

He's known since last night that something of this sort has been coming ever since she checked herself out of hospital. It's been perfectly clear to him that even though Eleanor's been carrying on as if nothing happened, she is not fine as she would have them all believe. Since yesterday she's been acting out in every which way like she always does whenever her world gets tipped upside down. The same as when her brother died, the same as when her father died, the same as when she and Beck parted ways.

He spent six months marking her every move, watching her every second of every waking moment to keep her safe. He can read everything about her just from a single gesture. He knows Eleanor better than he knows himself. Everyone else may think the Princess is a cool customer, more style than heart. But he knows Eleanor feels every cut – both herself and others – deeply. And the interview has brought up too fresh memories and left her shattered.

He gently places her into a nearby chair and runs a hand through his hair.

He steps over and shuts the window. The press pack seems to have doubled in the past hour and the last thing he needs is a roving reporter coming over and sticking a microphone in her face.

Then he kneels down to her level. He takes a deep breath to calm himself because, although she will never admit it, she needs him more than ever right now.

'Eleanor," he says, using both hands to brush her hair back from her face. His voice sounds steady and sure. "I have to take you back to your room now, baby. You can't stay here like this."

She shifts in the seat and watches him silently. There are so many things she wants to say to him, she doesn't even know where to start. She opens her mouth to speak but no sound comes out.

She tries again, then slumps back in the seat, defeated and a tear trickles down her face.

Even in her dishevelled state she's still impossibly lovely to him.

He bends down and picks her up in him arms. Eleanor wraps her arms tight around his neck and tilts her head into his shoulder. In an echo of the same scene yesterday morning he lifts her effortlessly and makes his way out of the room. And if anyone stares at them as he carries her across the lobby and into the lift, he doesn't give a damn because now Eleanor is back in his arms - exactly where she belongs.


	18. Chapter 18

In Eleanor's room Jasper comes and sits next to her on the bed.

She doesn't speak but she shifts closer to him and the warmth from his body feels safe and familiar.

"You might not believe this coming from me but although its not easy, sometimes you have to tell the truth even if you know its gonna hurt," Jasper's face is serious as he looks at her and he places his hand over hers.

Eleanor watches him. His words are heavy with meaning.

Is he telling her that she was right to tell the Police Officer all of the dreadful things that happened in the club even though its left her a wreck?

Or that he had to say he loves her even if he thinks she will reject him? Again.

Or is it an explanation to her of why he finally confessed about his plan to steal the Koh-i-Nor from her.

She wants to ask him what he means but she doesn't have the words yet.

Right here, right now she can see with painful clarity that Jasper does in fact love her.

She thinks of Jasper risking his job to let her go to her father in hospital.

Jasper following her round the world to keep her safe when she had no security.

Jasper coming back after Mandy left, even thought he might be thrown in prison again.

Jasper returning her grandmother's earrings.

Jasper working all hours to track down her father's killer so she could have justice.

Jasper pressing the button which will kill Ted Pryce and taking responsibility for ending someone's life because she can't bring herself to.

And now Jasper flying half way across the world to risk his life to save her.

And all along after everything he had done she had still rejected him. Every single time. And yet he still kept coming back when she needed him most.

She realises that the reason why it hurts her so much to think of all the ways she has hurt him, rejected him and turned him away is because she loves him. She loves him so bad and its ridiculous that she never knew this until this afternoon when it should have been so fucking obvious to her all along.

She reaches into her pocket and extracts his note and places it in his hand. Then she gets up, moves over to the little table, tears off a scrap of the hotel's complimentary paper and scribbles him a note.

She stands in front of Jasper, and passes it to him. Her heart is beating loud in her ears. He opens it and reads. _I think I love you._

Jasper looks up and Eleanor is watching him and he doesn't think he's ever seen her look so young and vulnerable before, like she's unsure if he's going to crush her in one sentence.

He's takes her hands in his and pulls her into his lap. His palms are broad, strong and sinewy, and they fold over her slender fingers.

"You know you're everything to me Eleanor, everything," he repeats, and his hands wrap around her back and lock her in place. "That's why I sent you that note when you were in the club. I couldn't bear the thought that you might die the next day and never know how I felt about you. God it fucked me up so much just thinking that something might happen to you," he swears.

And yesterday evening when he'd taken Eleanor back to her room he'd still been totally fucked up over the idea of losing her. That was why from the moment he stepped inside her room, he knew exactly what his objective was. And yes he'd managed to catch Eleanor in a rare moment of vulnerability, but he'd just passed through hell as much as she had and that was his chance to get her back, maybe the last chance he'd ever get.

Eleanor opens her mouth to speak and at last the words come out again, even if there's a shaky wobble to her voice.

"I don't understand how it got on the floor?" she asks.

"I went in to a police briefing shortly after I arrived on the night before the raid and the pizza boxes were stacked up there ready to go to the club. I slipped it under one of the pizzas. I knew you might never get the note but I just wanted you to know that I loved you. I know it was crazy and the police would have had a fit if they knew," he finishes.

He never imagined that his Las Vegas slight of hand technique would come in useful in these circumstances.

"I only got it just before when that girl came to see me. She picked it up off the floor. And I didn't know that you were the one who got me out of that club because my bloody useless brother never thought fit to tell me," Eleanor huffs. When she thinks over the way she's treated Jasper who risked his life for her only yesterday, she's embarrassed that she's been so ungrateful and awful to him.

"But what I mean to say is that I've had diamonds and jewels before as presents and they're nice enough, but I think I like your minging, greasy note better, Jasper," Eleanor says, smiling.

It startles him that Eleanor's looking at him with a wide eyed reverence he's only ever seen her direct at her father who she adored.

"I meant every word of it," Jasper replies, huskily, staring back into her eyes.

Eleanor shifts in his arms and leans back to regard him properly.

"You saved my life yesterday. You said you love me but you need to understand what you're getting yourself into. With me. With my life. I owe it to you," she starts.

Eleanor pushes his hands off her, gets up and walks to the window. She needs to be away from him to think clearly, to say what she needs to say to him to make him understand.

"If I had a choice I would never have chosen to be a princess. I know I've made mistakes. The newspapers - the public, people who don't even know you but want to judge you - they use your mistakes against you to make you feel less than you are. And they will try to do the same to you," her face is grave.

In the street below she can see reporters and camera crews swarming around the hotel entrance like flies. Everywhere she goes they will follow. Every mistake she makes will be recorded forever.

"If you're famous everyone pretends to love you. But they only see the image and not the person inside. Nobody loves me for who I am. They just love me for what I am."

Eleanor's lip trembles and she places a finger on the table next to her and traces an invisible pattern into the wood. She keeps her eyes on the table.

"People think that being seen is everything but being known is harder. Letting someone else see the real you, all your faults and weaknesses is terrifying," she says, and her voice shakes.

He knows what she is trying to say. That she isn't good enough. That the pressure of royal life could steal away their chance of being happy together.

She couldn't be more wrong.

"Why do you think I came over here?," Jasper demands, getting to his feet. "Why did I go into that club to rescue you? Why did I spend months trying to track down your fathers killer?," she can feel him standing behind her, pulling her into his body.

"I do all these things because I love you Eleanor," he says into her hair. "I've tried to stop loving you over the past couple of months. I've tried so hard to forget you. But I can't and nothing you do and nothing I do can ever change the way I feel," he says passionately. "And I don't give a damn what other people think, because there's nothing about you that I would change at all."

He comes around to her and takes her in his arms.

Eleanor is looking at the ground and her voice is only a whisper, "Jasper when I was in that club and the terrorist put a gun to my head all I could think of was that I wanted to see your face again before I died. That I wanted to have your arms around me again one more time," her voice hitches and Eleanor starts crying again now.

The thought of someone holding a gun to Eleanor's head and how terrified she must have been in that moment is like physical pain in his gut.

He shifts his arms around her and draws her closer. "You're in my arms now and I won't let you go. Ever," his voice is fierce and he presses a kiss into her cheek. "And its not the end, its only the beginning of something. The beginning of us."

It scares her how much she needs him. If their positions were reversed and Jasper was the one who was in danger, or who was shot, she doesn't know what she would do or how she could go on.

Eleanor looks up and touches his face.

She doesn't think she loves Jasper any more.

Now she's sure of it.

* * *

Liam's walking down the corridor of the hotel with Damian behind him when Robbie calls.

"Yeah, so I've been doing some further investigation into this guy," he launches into a conversation without bothering to introduce himself or even clarify who he's talking about.

"His finding Ted Pryce killed our father and rescuing Lenny from the siege are points in his favour. And both my secretaries tell me they think he's hot as hell so if he can set the knickers of most of England's female population aflame that will win him a fair bit of support. Apparently I'm only pretty hot. I'm still reeling from the sting of rejection," he adds. Liam can't see him but he's pretty sure Robbie's adopted a suitably pained expression at the end of the phone.

"Anyway his shoot first, ask questions later approach is slightly disturbing but it probably does indicate he's going to fit right into our family, given that Cyrus and the Duchie both had psychopathic killer tendencies," Robbie continues.

He pauses and then issues his verdict. "If Lenny wants him as her boyfriend I'm willing to sanction it. But while I appreciate he's an American and things like cheese in a can and Donald Trump's hair are perfectly acceptable over there if he has any aspirations to become my brother in law he needs to learn to keep his pants on in public."

"Fair enough," Liam replies.

"And you can tell him that if he harms a hair on my sister's head I will not be responsible for my actions," Robbie adds in a threatening tone.

Liam smirks. 'Yeah, I'm pretty sure I heard those exact words come out of Jasper's mouth before in defence of Lenny. Maybe its you and Jasper who are the perfect match?"

"I would only be prepared to say that if you're comfortable with my boot up your ass. Old Sport," Robbie comes back with a quick retort.

"Anyway I have to go now," he adds breezily. "I'm at the Lords and I'm about to curry favour by starting a conversation about how unreasonable it that the government has decided that moat cleaning of privately owned castles is not a legitimate use of taxpayer funded Parliamentary expenses."

"Once you start them on that they'll never stop," Liam warns. "They're almost as outraged that they can't claim that as an expense as they are about the fact that they don't have the right to charge about the countryside anymore randomly shooting foxes and other unsuspecting wildlife. Or poachers."

Liam reaches Eleanor's door and rests his hand on the handle as he finishes talking to Robbie.

"Time here always helps me get in touch with perspective of the common man I find," Robert adds sarcastically. Tomorrow he'll get a chance to do something he actually enjoys when he visits an affordable housing project he is the patron of.

"Anyway, I've gotta go but please tell our dear sister that my weekly media conference would be much less eventful if she could manage to keep her knickers on. See you later bro," Robbie signs off.

"Bye." Liam swiches his phone off and stuffs it into his pocket. He thinks he'll probably keep Robert's comment to his sister to himself in case she interprets it as some kind of challenge.

* * *

Liam pushes the door open and is about to start briefing his sister on the newspaper stories but what he sees stops him in his tracks.

Jasper and Eleanor are lying together on the bed, fully clothed and completely still.

Their foreheads are touching and Jasper has one hand in Eleanor's hair. His other hand is threaded into her hand. His sister has her eyes closed but she is smiling into Jasper's cheek and he is murmuring into her ear.

They look like two halves of a missing whole, finally reunited.

Liam quietly shuts the door and backs away, feeling like an intruder.

He picks up his phone and texts Rachel her instructions. "We're gonna need romance version ready 2 go."

In another twenty minutes he'll have to knock on their door to remind them they're leaving for the airport soon, and break the news that the two of them are today's breaking news. But until then he'll leave them alone in each other's arms.

Turns out he was right about them from the beginning after all.

He's known Jasper's been in deep for a long time now but now he's reeled Eleanor in too and she's in over her head just as much as he is.

Hook, line and sinker, he thinks to himself smiling.

**The End**

 _Congratulations to the readers who guessed Jasper put the note in the pizza box. Eleanor is pretty cute in this chapter – I didn't even have the idea for her to write her own note until I was writing the chapter and then she wasn't able to speak._

 _Anyway I hope you enjoyed this story – if you did please review and let me know. Thanks._


	19. Chapter 19

Hi

Thank you for all your reviews. I'm pleased you liked the story so much.

Sorry but this isn't a continuation of the story however I've had quite a few people ask if I will write some more Jaspenor. Maybe - normally what happens is I get an idea in my head about the plot and the story goes from there. So if I get an idea I want to go with, then yes!

But anyway I wanted to say that I have already written 3 other Jaspenor fics which I'm not sure you have all read - 1 of them is even longer and more twisty than under siege so they will keep you occupied for a while. You can read them by clicking on my username. And if you enjoy them please review and let me know.

Thank you


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